04        ~t    C 


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THE  THREE  GODFATHERS 


Books  by 
Peter  B.  Kyne. 

THE   THREE  GODFATHERS 

CAPPY   RICKS   RETIRES 

THE   PRIDE   OF  PALOMAR 

KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 

THE   GO-GETTER 

CAPTAIN   SCRAGGS 

THE   LONG  CHANCE 

THE   VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

WEBSTER,    MAN'S   MAN 

CAPPY  RICKS 


'It  stands  to  reason,"  theWorst  Bad  Man  announced 
presently, '  'that  this  infant' s  mother  made  some  pro- 
vision for  his  reception  into  camp."  (Page 37) 


The 

Three  Godfathers 


By  PETER  B.  KYNE 

Author  of  "Kindred  of  the  Dust,"  etc. 

WITH   FRONTISPIECE   IN   COLOR  BT 
DEAN  CORNWELL 


HIS  is  the  story  of  The  Three  Bad  Men— not 
The  Three  Wise  Men.  "What's  a  godfather, 
Bill?"  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  inquired.  "What 
job  does  he  hold  down?"  "You're  an  awful  igno- 
rant young  man,  Bob,"  replied  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  reproachfully.  "A  godfather  is  a  sort  of 
reserve  parent  who  promises  to  renounce  the  devil 
•with  all  his  works  an'  pomps."  The  Youngest 
Bad  Man  smiled  wanly.  "Well,  Bill,  all  I  got  to 
say  is  us  three're  a  lovely  bunch  o'  godfathers." 


1922 


NEW    YORK 


Copyright,  1913,  by  Cosmopolitan  Book  Corporation, 

New  York.     All  rights  reserved,  including  that 

of  translation    into  foreign   languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


TO  K.  E.  H.  and  R.  R.  H. 


1824041 


THE  THREE  GODFATHERS 


The  Three  Godfathers 


THE  daylight  raid  on  the  Wicken- 
burg  National  Bank  had  not  been  a 
success.  It  had  been  well  planned, 
boldly  and  cleverly  executed,  and  the  four 
bandits  had  gathered  unto  themselves  quite 
a  fortune  in  paper  money;  the  job  had  been 
singularly  free  from  fuss  and  feathers. 
Nevertheless,  as  has  already  been  stated,  the 
raid  was  not  a  success.  The  assistant  cash- 
ier, returning  from  luncheon,  had,  from  a 
distance  of  half  a  block,  observed  two 
strangers  in  town.  Both  strangers  were 
mounted  and  stood  on  guard  in  front  of  the 
Wickenburg  National.  In  an  alley  just 
back  of  the  bank  two  saddle  horses  were 
standing;  and  as  the  assistant  cashier 
paused,  irresolute,  two  men  came  out  of  the 
bank,  mounted  the  two  horses  waiting  in  the 
alley,  and,  followed  by  the  men  who  had 


10    The  Three  Godfathers 

been  standing  on  watch  in  front  of  the  bank, 
rode  out  of  Wickenburg  in  rather  a  sus- 
picious hurry.  The  assistant  cashier  had  an 
inspiration. 

"Thieves!  Robbers  1  Stop  'em!"  he 
yelled. 

His  hue  and  cry  aroused  to  action  an 
apparently  inoffensive  and  elderly  citizen 
who  was  taking  his  siesta  in  front  of  The 
Three  Deuces  saloon.  Now  this  man  in 
front  of  The  Three  Deuces  was  not  the 
sheriff.  He  was  not  even  the  city  marshal. 
Rather  he  inclined  one  to  the  belief  that  he 
might  be  a  minister  of  the  gospel — a  soul- 
trapper  on  guard  at  the  portals  of  The 
Three  Deuces,  within  which,  judging  by 
the  subdued  rattle  of  poker  chips,  ivory 
balls  and  an  occasional  hoarse  shout  of 
"Keno!"  one  could  be  reasonably  certain  of 
a  plethora  of  brands  ripe  for  the  burning. 
The  aged  citizen  asleep  in  the  chair  out- 
side was  arrayed  in  somber  black,  with  a 
turn-down  collar  and  white  lawn  tie,  a 


The  Three  Godfathers    11 

"biled"  shirt  with  a  ruby  stud  in  it,  and 
patriarchial  white  whiskers.  But  his  coat, 
of  a  clerical  cut,  effectually  concealed  two 
pieces  of  artillery  of  a  style  and  caliber 
popularized  by  time  and  tradition  in  the 
fair  state  of  Arizona. 

The  four  galloping  horsemen  were 
abreast  The  Three  Deuces  when  the  cry  of 
"Robbers!"  aroused  all  Wickenburg.  It 
awoke  the  man  in  the  chair;  and  he  came  to 
his  feet  with  the  suddenness  of  a  ferocious 
old  dog,  filled  both  hands  and  cut  loose  at 
one  of  the  four  horsemen.  There  was  a 
reason  for  this.  The  elderly  citizen  had  a 
deposit  of  three  dollars  and  seventeen  cents 
in  the  Wickenburg  National.  Also  he 
possessed  a  fair  proportion  of  civic  pride, 
and  the  horseman  upon  whom  he  trained 
his  hardware  was  carrying  a  gunny-sack 
containing  a  £ro  rata  of  the  said  elderly  citi- 
zen's three-seventeen. 

Four  Bad  Men  had  ridden  into  Wicken- 
burg that  December  afternoon,  but  only 


12   The  Three  Godfathers 

three  rode  out.  One  of  the  three  had  a  bul- 
let hole  through  his  left  shoulder.  The 
man  who  stayed  lay,  thoroughly  and  effect- 
ually defunct,  on  top  of  a  bulging  gunny- 
sack  in  front  of  The  Three  Deuces.  Came 
presently  the  paying  teller  of  the  Wicken- 
burg  National  and  removed  the  gunny-sack. 
Came  half  an  hour  later  the  coroner  of 
Wickenburg  and  removed  the  body.  As  for 
the  elderly  citizen  of  deceptive  appearance, 
he  walked  uptown  to  a  hardware  store,  re- 
plenished his  supply  of  ammunition  and 
returned  to  The  Three  Deuces  in  a  highly 
cheerful  frame  of  mind.  Here  let  us  leave 
him,  for  with  this  story  he  has  nothing  fur- 
ther to  do.  From  now  on  our  interest  must 
center  on  The  Three  Bad  Men  who  rode 
out  of  Wickenburg  headed  for  the  Cali- 
fornia line — which  happens  to  be  the  Colo- 
rado River. 

They  made  their  first  halt  at  Granite 
Tanks,  twenty-five  miles  from  Wickenburg. 
Here  they  watered  their  horses  and  then 


The  Three  Godfathers    13 

pressed  onward  toward  the  river.  At  the 
river  they  found  a  boat,  thoughtfully  pro- 
vided for  just  such  an  emergency  as  the 
present. 

Darkness  had  already  settled  over  the 
land  when  The  Three  Bad  Men  came  to 
the  Colorado  River.  It  would  have  been 
wise  on  their  part  to  have  waited  until  the 
rising  of  the  moon,  but  our  story  does  not 
deal  with  The  Three  Wise  Men.  Within 
the  hour  a  posse  might  appear,  and,  more- 
over, The  Three  Bad  Men  were  of  that 
breed  that  prefers  to  "take  a  chance."  They 
rode  their  jaded  horses  into  the  flood  until 
the  yellow  waters  lapped  their  bellies;  then 
they  shot  them  and  shoved  the  carcasses  off 
into  the  current. 

An  hour  later  The  Three  Bad  Men  land- 
ed on  the  California  side  near  Bill  Wil- 
liams Mountain,  filled  their  boat  with 
stones  and  sank  it,  and  shouldering  a  supply 
of  food  and  water  sufficient  to  last  them 
four  days,  headed  up  a  long  box  canon  that 


14    The  Three  Godfathers 

led  north  to  the  Colorado  Desert.  They 
made  fair  time  after  the  moon  came  up. 
All  night  long  they  trudged  through  the 
box  canon,  and  at  daylight  it  opened  out 
into  the  waste. 

"Well,  boys,  I  guess  we're  safe,"  re- 
marked The  Worst  Bad  Man,  who  was  the 
leader  of  the  trio.  "It's  cooler  in  the  canon, 
so  suppose  we  camp  here.  I  feel  like  break- 
fast and  some  sleep.  How's  your  shoulder, 
Bill?" 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  shrugged  the 
wounded  member  disdainfully. 

"High  up.  Missed  the  bone  and  don't 
amount  to  much,  Tom.  But  I've  bled  like 
a  stuck  pig  and  it's  weakened  me  a  little." 

"I'll  heat  some  water  and  wash  it  up, 
Bill,"  said  The  Youngest  Bad  Man,  much 
concerned. 

They  made  a  very  small  fire  of  cat-claw 
and  ironwood,  brewed  a  pot  of  coffee, 
breakfasted,  washed  and  dressed  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man's  shoulder  and  slept 


The  Three  Godfathers   15 

until  late  afternoon.  They  awoke  much  re- 
freshed, ate  an  early  supper  and  struck  out 
across  the  desert  to  the  north,  where  in  time 
they  would  come  to  the  Santa  Fe  tracks. 
There  were  lonely  stations  out  there  in  the 
sands — they  might  be  worth  investigation. 
Then  on  to  the  new  mining  camp  at  Old 
Woman  Mountain — a  camp  which,  follow- 
ing the  whimsical  and  fantastic  system  of 
desert  nomenclature,  which  seems  to  trend 
toward  such  names  as  Mecca,  Cadiz,  Bag- 
dad, Bengal  and  Siam,  had  had  bestowed 
upon  it  the  not  inappropriate  name  of  New 
Jerusalem. 

For  a  number  of  reasons  The  Three  Bad 
Men  preferred  to  travel  by  night.  Prim- 
arily they  were  prowlers  and  preferred  it. 
Secondly,  although  one  may  encounter  tor- 
rid weather  by  day  on  the  Colorado  Desert 
even  in  December,  the  nights,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  bitterly  cold — and  The  Three 
Bad  Men  had  no  blankets.  Also  there  was 
this  advantage  about  traveling  at  night  and 


16    The  Three  Godfathers 

sleeping  in  the  shadow  of  a  rock  by  day: 
they  would  not  meet  other  wanderers  and 
there  would  be  no  embarrassing  questions 
to  answer  respecting  the  hole  in  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man's  shoulder. 

Consequently  The  Three  Bad  Men  trav- 
eled by  night.  From  Mojave  Tanks  they 
swung  west  to  avoid  the  mining  operations 
there,  although  more  than  once  they  glanced 
back  wistfully  at  the  little  cluster  of  yellow 
lights  shining  across  the  sands.  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man's  shoulder  was  in  a  bad 
way  and  needed  medical  attention.  Also 
they  needed  water;  but  they  were  desert- 
bred  and  could  last  until  they  came  to 
Malapai  Springs. 

So  they  turned  their  backs  on  Mojave 
Tanks  and  tramped  onward.  Now  they 
were  in  the  ghostly  moonlight  of  the  open 
desert,  with  the  outlines  of  the  mountain 
ranges  on  each  side  looming  dim  and 
shadowy  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  away;  now 
they  were  picking  their  way  carefully 


The  Three  Godfathers    17 

through  clusters  of  murderous  catclaw, 
through  tangles  of  mesquit  and  ironwood. 
Up  dark,  lonely  arroyos  they  went;  down 
long  alleys  between  the  outstretched  arms 
of  the  ocatillas  with  their  pendulous,  blood- 
red  blossoms,  passing  dried,  withered 
Joshua  trees  twisted  into  fantastic  shapes  as 
if  their  fearful  surroundings  had  caused 
them  to  writhe  in  horror;  through  solitude 
and  desolation  so  vast  and  profound  as  to 
inspire  one  with  the  thought  that  the 
Creator,  appalled  at  the  magnitude  of  this 
abortion  of  Nature,  had  set  it  apart  as  an 
eternal  heritage  of  the  damned. 

In  the  forenoon  of  the  fifth  day  they 
came  to  Malapai  Springs.  Here  The 
Three  Bad  Men  drank  deeply,  bathed, 
filled  their  canteens  and  stepped  blithely 
out  for  Terrapin  Tanks,  the  next  water- 
hole — a  little-known  and  consequently  un- 
frequented spot — where  they  could  rest  for 
a  few  days  before  attempting  the  last  des- 
perate leg  of  their  journey  to  the  railroad. 


18    The  Three  Godfathers 

"Don't  stint  yourself  on  the  water,  Bill," 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  advised  as  they  de- 
parted from  Malapai  Springs.  "There's 
always  water  at  Terrapin  Tanks." 

Nevertheless,  with  the  instinct  of  the  des- 
ert-bred, The  Worst  Bad  Man  and  The 
Youngest  Bad  Man  were  sparing  with  the 
water  themselves,  although  careful  to  con- 
ceal this  fact  from  The  Wounded  Bad  Man. 
The  latter's  shoulder  was  swollen  and  in- 
flamed, and  it  was  a  relief  to  him  if  the 
bandages  were  kept  wet. 

The  Worst  Bad  Man,  who  knew  the 
country  better  than  his  companions,  had 
timed  their  arrival  at  Terrapin  Tanks  al- 
most to  the  hour.  The  sun  was  just  com- 
ing up  over  the  low  red  hummocks  of 
hematite  to  the  eastward  when  The  Three 
Bad  Men  plodded  wearily  up  a  long,  dry 
canon,  turned  a  sharp,  rocky  promontory 
into  an  arroyo — and  paused. 

Borne  on  the  slight  desert  breeze  a  sound 
came  to  them  from  up  the  arroyo.  It  was  a 


The  Three  Godfathers    19 

mournful,  wailing  cry  and  ended  in  a  sob 
— a  sound  that  bespoke  pain  and  fear  and 
misery. 

The  Three  Bad  Men  looked  at  one  an- 
other. Each  held  up  an  index  finger,  en- 
joining silence.  A  second,  a  third  time  the 
sound  was  repeated. 

ult's  a  human  voice,"  announced  The 
Worst  Bad  Man,  "an'  there's  death  in  it. 
Wait  here.  I'm  goin'  in  to  see  what's  up." 

When  he  had  gone  The  Youngest  Bad 
Man,  after  the  restless  and  inquisitive  man- 
ner of  youth,  climbed  a  tall  rock  and  gazed 
up  the  arroyo. 

"I  see  the  top  of  a  covered  wagon,"  he 
announced. 

"Then,"  said  The  Wounded  Bad  Man, 
"It's  a  tenderfoot  outfit,  an'  that's  a  woman 
cryin'.  No  desert  rat'd  come  here  with  a 
wagon.  Fools  drive  in  where  burros  fear 
to  tread,  Bob.  They're  tenderfeet." 

"That's  right,"  agreed  The  Youngest  Bad 
Man.  "Some  nester  come  in  over  the  trail 


20    The  Three  Godfathers 

from  Imperial  Valley  and  bound  for  New 
Jerusalem,  I'll  bet  a  new  hat." 

"Whoever's  doin'  that  whimperin'  is  sure 
bound  for  New  Jerusalem,"  The  Wounded 
Bad  Man  replied  with  a  grim  attempt  at 
humor.  "An'  if  I  don't  let  a  doctor  look 
at  this  shoulder  o'  mine  before  long  I'll 
head  that  way  myself." 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  was  gone  about  ten 
minutes.  Presently  the  others  saw  him  re- 
turning. On  his  hard,  sunscorched  face 
deep  concern  showed  plainly,  and  as  he 
trotted  down  the  arroyo  he  scratched  his 
unkempt  head  as  if  in  search  of  an  idea 
of  sufficient  magnitude  to  cope  with  a  grave 
situation.  When  he  reached  his  comrades 
he  sat  down  on  a  chunk  of  black  lava  and 
fanned  himself  with  his  hat. 

"There's  a  fine  old  state  of  affairs  at  the 
Tanks,"  he  said  huskily. 

"They  ain't  dry,  are  they?"  Fright 
showed  in  the  wide  blue  eyes  of  The  Young- 
est Bad  Man.  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  sat 


The  Three  Godfathers  21 

down  very  suddenly  and  gulped.  The 
Worst  Bad  Man  replied  to  the  question. 

"Worse'n  that." 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  sighed.  "It 
can't  be,"  he  said. 

"There's  a  wagon  at  the  Tanks,"  con- 
tinued The  Worst  Bad  Man,  "but  no  horses. 
It's  a  tenderfoot  outfit — a  man  an'  his 
woman — an'  they  come  in  from  Salton,  via 
Canon  Springs  and  Boulder,  headed  for 
New  Jerusalem.  Some  o'  their  kin  has 
started  a  boardin'  tent  in  the  new  camp  an' 
these  two  misfortunates  were  aimin'  to  go 
in  with  the  rush  an'  clean  up  a  stake.  They 
make  Terrapin  Tanks  all  right,  but  the 
water's  a  little  low  an'  the  man  ain't  got 
sense  enough  to  dig  out  the  sand  an'  let  the 
water  run  in.  He's  one  of  these  nervous 
city  fellers,  I  guess,  and  it  just  naturally 
hurts  him  to  set  down  an'  wait  till  that 
sump-hole  fills  up.  Besides,  he  don't  take 
kindly  to  usin'  a  shovel,  so  he  sticks  in  a 


22    The  Three  Godfathers 

shot  o'  dynamite  to  clean  out  th'  tanks  an' 
start  the  water  runnin'  - 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  sprang  to  his 
feet,  cursing  horribly. 

'The  damned,  crazy  fool!"  he  raved.  "I'll 
kill  him,  I  will.  I'll  kill  him  just  as  sure 
as  I'm  thirsty." 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  paid  no  attention 
to  the  other's  outburst. 

"So  he  stuck  in  his  stick  o'  dynamite  an' 
it's  only  a  fool's  luck  he  didn't  blow  him- 
self up  doin'  it.  I  wisht  he  had;  but  he 
didn't.  He  just  put  Terrapin  Tanks  out  o' 
business  forever — cracked  the  granite  floor 
o'  that  sump-hole  an'  busted  down  the  sides, 
an'  the  water's  run  out  into  the  sand  an'  the 
tanks  run  dry.  They'll  stay  dry.  We  can 
have  cloudbursts  in  this  country  from  now 
until  I  get  religion,  but  them  tanks'll  never 
hold  another  drop  o'  water.  That  fool  ten- 
derfoot's dead,  I  guess;  but  he's  goin'  to 
keep  right  on  killin'  people  just  the  same. 
Men'll  keep  comin'  here,  bankin'  on  water 


The  Three  Godfathers    23 

— an'  in  five  years  there'll  be  a  dozen  skel- 
etons round  that  busted  tank." 

"But  all  that  ain't  what's  bitin'  me  half 
as  hard  as  what  he  went  an'  done  next.  He 
went  an'  let  his  stock  nose  round  an'  lick  up 
that  alkali  slop  below  the  Tanks,  an'  it 
drove  'em  loco.  They  took  off  up  the 
canon,  huntin'  water,  with  Mr.  Man  after 
'em.  That  was  four  days  ago  an'  he  ain't 
come  back  yet;  so  we  don't  need  to  waste 
no  time  speculatin'  on  his  case  an'  feelin' 
sorry  for  him.  It  wouldn't  'a  been  so  bad, 
but  he  went  an'  left  his  woman  alone  at  th* 
Tanks.  She  had  a  little  water  left,  so  she 
wasn't  so  bad  off  until  yesterday,  when  it 
give  out.  It's  been  pretty  hard  on  her  all 
alone  there — an'  she's  a  nice  little  woman 
too.  About  twenty,  I  guess,  an'  heaps  too 
good  for  the  cuss  she  married.  But  still  that 
ain't  the  worst — not  by  a  long  shot.  She's 
goin'  to  have  a  papoose." 

"What!" 

"The    Youngest    Bad    Man    and    The 


24    The  Three  Godfathers 

Wounded  Bad  Man  voiced  the  horrified 
exclamation  in  unison;  then  The  Wounded 
Bad  Man  sank  back  against  a  rock. 

"Yes,"  The  Worst  Bad  Man  affirmed 
huskily,  "there's  a  baby  due  right  soon,  I 
reckon.  She's  in  a  pretty  bad  fix.  I  was 
never  married,  boys,  an'  I  don't  know  what 
to  do  for  her — an'  she's  cryin',  an' 
prayin',  and  askin'  for  help,  an' — I — don't 
know " 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  choked  and  hid  his 
hard  face  in  his  hands.  He  shook  like  a 
hooked  fish.  Silence,  while  The  Worst  Bad 
Man  fought  for  control  of  himself. 

"I'm  a  tough  old  bird,"  he  said  presently 
— "I'm  an  awful  tough  old  bird;  but  I  can't 
go  back  there  alone.  You've  got  to  come 
with  me,  lads.  We  got  to  do  somethin'  for 
her." 

He  turned  hopefully  to  The  Wounded 
Bad  Man. 

"Bill,"  he  said  pleadingly,  "you  ought  to 
know  somethin'  about  such  cases.  You  do, 


The  Three  Godfathers   25 

don't  you  Bill?  Wasn't  you  married  to  a 
half-breed  girl  down  on  the  Rio  Colorado 
somewheres,  an'  didn't  she  have  kids  for 
you?" 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  was  on  the  de- 
fensive instantly. 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  he  admitted  with  some 
show  of  reluctance,  "but  then,  Tom,  you 
know  as  well  as  me  that  Injuns  is  different 
They  ain't  human,  an'  this  here's  a  white 
woman " 

"That's  right."  The  Youngest  Bad  Man 
out  of  the  wisdom  of  his  twenty-two  sum- 
mers hastened  to  Bill's  assistance.  "An' 
child-bearin'  with  a  white  woman  means 
doctors  an'  nurses  an'  feather  beds  an'  what- 
all." 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  flashed  the 
youth  a  grateful  glance. 

"You  bet  that's  right,  Bob.  An'  besides, 
when  that  woman  o'  mine  had  them  two 
twins  I  was  doin'  a  five  year  stretch  in 
Yuma — so  you  can  see  I  don't  know  nothin' 


26    The  Three  Godfathers 

about  it.  All  I  know  is  what  I've  heard. 
She  didn't  even  call  a  neighbor's  woman — 
just  brings  them  twins  into  the  world  one 
day,  an'  gets  out  an'  hustles  a  livin'  for  'em 
the  next." 

"Well,"  retorted  the  bedeviled  Worst 
Bad  Man,  "I  wasn't  tryin'  to  pass  the  buck. 
Just  a-ruminatin'  around  for  information." 
He  rose  wearily.  "Come  on,"  he  growled, 
and  led  the  way. 

The  Three  Bad  Men  walked  up  the  draw 
to  Terrapin  Tanks.  In  reverential  awe  they 
stood  beside  the  covered  wagon,  parted  the 
side  curtains  and  looked  in. 

On  a  straw  tick,  covered  with  blankets, 
lay  a  woman.  She  was  young,  with  great 
brown  eyes  alight  with  fever  and  with  the 
luster  of  approaching  motherhood.  A  long 
braid  of  brown  hair  lay  across  her  white 
breast;  she  moaned  in  her  pain  and  terror 
and  wretchedness. 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  found  a  tin  cup 
and  gave  her  generously  of  his  all  too  scant 


The  Three  Godfathers    21 

supply  of  water.  The  Youngest  Bad  Man 
got  a  clean  towel  out  of  the  tail-box,  wet  it 
and  washed  her  burning  face  and  hands. 
The  Worst  Bad  Man,  whose  courage,  for 
all  his  deviltry,  had  its  limitations,  went  and 
sat  down  on  the  tongue  of  the  wagon  and 
tried  to  think.  But  scourged  with  the  hor- 
ror of  this  most  terrible  of  human  travail, 
he  fled  up  the  arroyo  out  of  hearing.  On 
the  top  of  one  of  the  little  black  volcanic 
hills,  from  which  eminence  he  could  look 
down  on  the  wagon,  he  stood,  active,  alert, 
like  a  mountain  sheep  on  guard,  and  beck- 
oned to  his  friends  to  join  him.  The  Young- 
est Bad  Man  obeyed  his  frantic  signals,  but 
The  Wounded  Bad  Man  stayed  at  the 
wagon. 

"You've  got  to  be  easy  on  me,  son,  at  a 
time  like  this,"  said  The  Worst  Bad  Man 
humbly.  "I'm  an  awful  tough  old  bird,  but 
I  can't  stand  that.  It  ain't  no  place  for  the 
likes  o'  me.  What's  to  be  done?" 

"Nothin'  much,  I  guess."    The  Youngest 


28    The  Three  Godfathers 

Bad  Man  threw  out  his  hands  in  despera- 
tion. "Bill  says  she  ain't  got  a  chance." 

He  took  his  canteen  in  both  hands  and 
shook  it  gently;  seeing  which  The  Worst 
Bad  Man  did  the  same  with  his. 

"How  much  has  Bill  got  left?"  he  asked 
anxiously. 

"Nary  drop.  He's  been  right  feverish 
along  o'  that  hole  in  his  wing,  an'  hittin'  his 
canteen  heavy,  expectin'  to  find  water  in 
the  Tanks." 

"Well,  we  got  about  two  gallons  left,"  an- 
nounced The  Worst  Bad  Man  philosophi- 
cally, "but  I  see  us  cuttin'  niggerhead  cac- 
tus before  we  hit  another  tank.  Once  in 
San  Berdoo  I  heard  a  sky-pilot  preachin', 
an'  he  'lowed  that  the  way  o'  the  trans- 
gressor's bound  to  be  hard;  but  I'm  dogged 
if  I  looked  for  anythin'  half  as  hard  as  this. 
Bill's  callin'  you,  son.  Better  lope  back  to 
the  wagon.  I'll — I — guess  I'll  wait  here." 

He  waited  half  an  hour,  watching  with 
anxious  and  paternal  eyes  the  activities  of 


The  Three  Godfathers    29 

his  fellows  at  the  wagon.  Once  the  sounds 
of  woe  drifted  up  to  him  and  he  moved 
farther  up  the  canon.  Here  he  waited,  and 
presently  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  joined 
him. 

"What  luck,  Bill?"  he  demanded. 

"A  boy,"  responded  The  Wounded  Bad 

Man.     "Come  on  down  an'  look  at  him.    -h" 

j$  t 
Tom.    He's  worth  it.    He's  man  size."          f* 

"How  about  that  misfortunate  girl?" 
"She  ain't  a-goin'  to  last  long,  Tom.  She's 
a-goin'  fast,  an'  she  wants  to  see  you — all 
of  us — together.    She's  quiet  now." 

Thus  reassured,  The  Worst  Bad  Man 
returned  with  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  to 
the  Tanks.  With  uncovered  head  he 
approached  the  wagon,  dreading  to  gaze 
upon  that  tragic  face,  drawn  with  agony. 
But  lo!  as  he  parted  the  curtains  he  gazed 
upon  the  miracle  of  motherhood.  Gone 
were  the  lines  of  suffering;  the  girl's  face 
was  transfigured  with  the  light  of  that  joy 
and  peace  and  pride  that  God  gives  to  new- 


30    The  Three  Godfathers 

made  mothers,  and  for  the  first  time  in  all 
his  hard  life  The  Worst  Bad  Man  was  per- 
mitted to  glimpse  something  of  the  glory 
of  his  Creator. 

The  babe,  wrapped  in  a  coarse  crash 
towel,  lay  in  the  hollow  of  the  little 
mother's  arm,  its  red,  puckered  little  face 
rested  on  her  snowy  bosom,  the  while  she 
gazed  downward  at  her  treasure.  It  came 
to  The  Worst  Bad  Man  very  suddenly  that 
once  upon  a  time  a  woman  had  gazed  upon 
him  with  that  same  look  of  yearning  and 
joy  ineffable;  and  with  the  thought  he 
reached  for  the  mother's  left  hand  and  car- 
ried it  to  his  cracked  and  blistered  lips.  He 
spoke  no  word,  but  as  he  bowed  his  reck- 
less head  reverently  over  that  fevered  hand 
he  seemed  to  cry  aloud : 

"Here  is  my  wasted  and  worthless  life. 
I  offer  it  in  exchange  for  yours." 

The  girl  mother's  calm,  benevolent  eyes 
beamed  their  gratitude.  She  understood, 
and  like  a  true  mother  she  accepted  his  trib- 


The  Three  Godfathers    31 

ute — only  the  sacrifice  could  not  be  for  her. 

"What  is  your  name?"  she  asked  wearily. 

"Tom  Gibbons." 

"And  yours?"  turning  to  The  Wounded 
Bad  Man. 

"Bill  Kearny." 

She  glanced  inquiringly  at  The  Youngest 
Bad  Man. 

"Bob  Sangster,"  he  replied. 

"Will  you  save  my  baby?"  Slowly, 
searchingly,  the  wonderful  eyes  confronted 
each  Bad  Man  in  turn. 

"I'll  save  him,"  promised  The  Youngest 
Bad  Man.  With  all  the  rashness,  the  un- 
thinking, unreasoning  confidence  and  gen- 
erosity of  youth,  he  passed  his  word.  He 
recked  not  of  the  long  trail  ahead  with 
death  for  the  pacemaker.  He  only  knew 
that  this  woman  of  sorrow  had  gazed  long- 
est upon  him,  estimating  the  strength  in 
his  lithe,  big  body,  searching  for  his  man- 
hood in  the  face  where  sin  had  not  yet  laid 
its  devastating  hand.  So  he  passed  his 


32    The  Three  Godfathers 

word,  and  passing  it  in  all  the  regal  sim- 
plicity of  the  brave,  the  mother  knew  that 
he  would  keep  it. 

"I'll  help,"  croaked  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  humbly.  He  glanced  at  The  Worst 
Bad  Man,  who  bowed  his  head  once  more 
over  the  little  hand. 

"I'll  help  too." 

"I  want  you — all  of  you — to  be  my  baby's 
godfathers.  Poor  little  son!  He'll  be  all 
alone  in  this  big  world  when  his  mamma 
leaves  him,  and  he's  going  to  miss  her  so. 
Aren't  you,  sweetheart?  Nobody  to  tuck 
you  into  bed  at  night,  nobody  to  teach  you 
your  prayers,  nobody  to  kiss  the  little  sore 

\      t  *     I 

spots  when  you  fall  and  hurt  yourself,  no- 
body to  tell  your  little  secrets  to 

She  closed  her  eyes.  A  tear  stole  through 
between  the  long  lashes,  and  The  Wounded 
Bad  Man  turned  away.  The  Youngest  Bad 
Man  went  and  sat  down  on  the  wagon 
tongue  and  wept,  for  he  was  young.  Only 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  stayed,  watching, 


The  Three  Godfathers    33 

waiting.  And  presently  the  mother  spoke 
again. 

"Are  you  all  here?  It's  getting  dark — 
and  we  must  be  moving  on — to  the  next 
waterhole.  You  —  Bob  Sangster  —  take 
baby.  You  said  you'd  save  him — didn't 
you?  And  Bill  Kearny — and — Tom — Gib- 
bons— will  you  be  his  godfathers — and — 
help — Bob — Sangster — on  the — trail?  Will 
you?  .  .  .  Promise — me — again — and 
...  his  name?  .  .  .  Call  him  Robert 
— William — Thomas — Sangster  .  .  .  and 
when  he's — a  fine — big — brave  man — like 
his — godfathers — you'll  tell — him  —  about 
his  little  mother  who — wanted  to  live — for 
him  so.  ...  Lift  him  up — godfathers — 
and  let  me — kiss  my — baby." 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  waited  until  the  last 
fluttering  little  sigh  was  finished  before  he 
removed  the  infant.  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  closed  the  mother's  eyes  and  folded 
her  hands  across  her  pulseless  breast.  The 
Youngest  Bad  Man  stood,  grasping  the 


34    The  Three  Godfathers 

brake-rod  until  his  knuckles  showed  white 
with  the  strain  of  the  grip.  Long  he  stood 
there,  gazing  at  that  calm,  spiritual  face 
with  its  halo  of  glistening  brown  hair,  pon- 
dering deeply  on  the  mysteries  of  birth  and 
life  and  death.  To  him  it  all  seemed  a 
monstrous  thing;  and  when  The  Worst  Bad 
Man  came  to  him  with  a  shovel  he  wept 
aloud. 

"Death  is  a  terrible  thing,  Tom,"  he 
sobbed. 

"Life's  worse,"  said  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  gently.  He  was  seated  apart,  with 
the  baby  in  his  arms,  shielding  it  from  the 
sun  with  his  broad  sombrero.  "Death  can 
only  get  you  once,  but  Life  is  a  ghost  dance. 
I  wonder  what  it  has  in  store  for  you,  kid- 
lets.  I  wonder." 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  departed  down 
the  arroyo  with  the  shovel  and  The  Worst 
Bad  Man,  discovering  a  hammer  and  nails 
in  the  toolbox  under  the  seat,  removed  the 
side  boards  and  some  strips  from  the  wagon 


The  Three  Godfathers   35 

bed  and  fell  briskly  to  work.  When  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man  had  satisfied  himself 
that  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  was  not  within 
hearing,  he  spoke : 

"I  say,  Tom.  Did  you  notice  her  when 
she  asked  us  to  save  the  baby?  She  picked 
on  Bob.  Seems  as  if  she  knew." 

"I  noticed.  I  guess  she  knew.  They  say 
angels  always  does  know.  It's  forty-five 
miles  to  New  Jerusalem,  Bill,  and  you  can't 
make  it,  and  I'm — I'm  too  old  for  a  long 
stretch  without  water." 

"That's  why  I  said  I'd  help." 

"Same  here." 

"We've  got  to  do  the  first  two  heats,  Tom. 
We've  got  to  save  young  Bob's  strength  for 
the  final  dash.  I'll  carry  the  baby  an'  you 
carry  the  grub  an'  things  tonight,  an'  to- 
morrow night " 

"I'll  carry  everything  tomorrow  night; 
after  that 'it'll  be  up  to  Bob.  He's  young 
and  hard  and  game.  He  ought  to  make  it." 


36    The  Three  Godfathers 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  with  clumsy  ten- 
derness they  buried  the  martyred  mother 
there  by  the  Terrapin  Tanks,  built  a  cairn 
over  the  grave  and  crowned  it  with  a  cross. 
Then  they  returned  to  the  dismantled 
wagon  to  hold  a  consultation. 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  was  the  first  to 
broach  the  subject  closest  to  the  hearts  of  all 
three. 

With  characteristic  directness  he  shot  his 
query  at  them.  All  his  wicked  life  he  had 
been  facing  desperate  issues;  long  since  he 
had  learned  to  face  them  unblinkingly. 

"Robert  William  Thomas's  got  to  have  a 
bath,  ain't  he?" 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  took  hold  of  the 
brake  rod  again  and  steadied  himself.  The 
Worst  Bad  Man  looked  at  the  wounded 
godfather  in  vague  surprise. 

"I  never  figgered  on  that  at  all,"  he  said 
simply.  "I  was  thinkin'  about  how  we're 
to  feed  him.  I'm  for  tubbin'  him  all  right, 
but " 


The  Three  Godfathers   37 

He  held  up  the  two  canteens.  His  pause 
was  eloquent. 

"But  he's  such  a  little  feller  it  won't  take 
much,"  protested  The  Wounded  Bad  Man. 
"He'll  fit  nice  in  a  dishpan." 

"I  wish  he  was  old  enough  to  stagger 
along  a  few  days  without  bathin',"  mourned 
The  Youngest  Bad  Man.  "Maybe  he  can. 
I  don't  know  a  thing  about  infants ;  but  if  he 
must  be  bathed,  why  I  guess  we'd  bet- 
ter   " 

"I  'lowed  to  ask  his  mother  a  few  ques- 
tions regardin'  his  up-keep  and  what-all," 
interrupted  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  apolo- 
getically, "but  I  clean  forgot." 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  wagged  his  head  as 
if  to  convey  the  impression  that  this  was 
a  pardonable  oversight  indeed.  He  was 
thinking. 

"It  stands  to  reason,"  he  announced  pres- 
ently, "that  this  infant's  mother  naturally 
made  some  provision  for  his  reception  into 
camp.  It's  my  opinion  that  gettin'  a  bath 


38    The  Three  Godfathers 

is  the  least  o'  the  troubles  confrontin'  our 
godson.  He's  just  naturally  got  to  eat,  an' 
wear  somethin'  better'n  a  towel  that'll 
plum  scratch  the  hide  off'n  him.  There 
ought  to  be  somethin'  for  Robert  boy  in  that 
tail-box." 

So  they  searched  the  tailbox  and  discor- 
ered  many  things— condensed  milk,  a  car- 
ton of  soda  crackers,  a  quart  bottle  of  olive 
oil,  a  feeding  bottle,  two  "bluffers"  with 
real  ivory  rings,  and  an  assortment  of  baby 
clothes,  many  of  them  hemstitched  and 
worked  through  long  months  of  loving  an- 
ticipation. The  silence  was  pregnant  of 
tears  as  The  Worst  Bad  Man  held  up  a  wee 
woolen  undershirt  and  two  little  stockings 
that  might  have  been  cut  from  the  index 
fingers  of  a  pair  of  woolen  mittens.  The 
trio  surveyed  them  wonderingly  before  re- 
turning to  the  search  of  the  tailbox. 

"Ah,  here  we  are,  Tom,  all  fine  and 
dandy,"  announced  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man,  fishing  up  a  book  from  the  recesses  of 


The  Three  Godfathers    39 

the  tailbox.  "  'Doctor  Meecham  on  Carin' 
for  the  Baby.'  Let's  see  what  the  doc  has  to 
say  about  it." 

"Here's  another,"  said  The  Worst  Bad 
Man,  picking  up  another  book  and  skim- 
ming through  the  first  few  pages,  "but  it 
don't  say  nothin'  about It's  a  Bible!" 

He  tossed  it  from  him  contemptuously, 
and  The  Youngest  Bad  Man,  still  under  the 
spell  of  his  youth  and  its  resultant  curiosity, 
retrieved  the  Bible.  The  Worst  Bad  Man, 
in  the  mean  time,  peered  over  the  shoulder 
of  The  Wounded  Bad  Man. 

"Turn  to  the  part  on  bathin'  the  baby, 
Bill,"  he  commanded. 

"Hum!  Ah-hem!  Let  me  see.  All  right, 
Tom." 

"Bathin'  the  Baby — Too  much  care  can- 
not be  exercised  in  performin'  this  most 
important  part  of  the  baby's  toilette " 

"What  in  blazes  is  a  toilette?"  demanded 
The  Worst  Bad  Man.  The  Wounded 


40    The  Three  Godfathers 

Ban  Man  thereupon  looked  into  the  tailbox 
as  if  in  search  of  it. 

"I  guess  our  baby  ain't  got  no  toilette  in 
his  war  bags,"  he  replied  sadly.  "A  toi- 
lette," he  continued,  "is  a  little  green  tin 
bathtub  about  as  long  as  my  arm.  Cost 
about  dos  pesos  in  any  hardware  store." 

"You— Bob.  You  hear  that?"  admon- 
ished The  Worst  Bad  Man.  "When  you 
get  to  New  Jerusalem,  you  send  out  to  Dan- 
by  first-off  an'  round  up  the  best  toilette 
money  can  buy.  Remember  that,  Bob. 
Crack  right  along,  Bill.  What  does  the 
doc  say  next?" 

"The  First  Bath— The  first  bath  should 
not  be  administered  until  the  baby  is  at  least 
three  days  old " 

"Bill,"  said  The  Worst  Bad  Man,  look- 
ing solemnly  at  his  companion,  "if  I  had  a 
sick  tomcat  I  wouldn't  send  for  Doc  Meech- 
am.  Three  days  without  a  bath!  That's 
all  right  when  the  boy's  a  grown-up  an' 
ain't  supposed  to  bathe  between  waterholes 


The  Three  Godfathers    41 

when  he's  in  the  desert,  or  every  Saturday 
night  when  he's  in  town,  but  with  new 
babies  I'll  lay  you  my  silver  spurs  it's  dif- 
ferent. The  doc's  wrong,  Bill.  But  come 
again." 

Thus  encouraged,  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  read: 

"Immediately  after  birth  the  nurse 
should  rub  the  entire  body  with  olive  oil, 
or,  if  that  is  not  available,  with  some  clean, 
pure  grease  or  lard." 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  closed  the  book, 
but  kept  his  finger  in  to  mark  the  place. 

"It  don't  sound  regular,  Tom,  I'll  admit; 
but  there's  a  bottle  of  olive  oil  in  the  tailbox, 
so  it  looks  like  Robert  William  Thomas  was 
due  for  a  greasin'  up  in  accordance  with  the 
doctor's  orders." 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  pondered.  "Well, 
I  ain't  convinced  nohow,"  he  said  presently. 
"This  godson  o'  ours  is  startin'  life  slippery 
enough  with  us  for  his  godfathers."  He 
pondered  a  moment  or  two  longer.  "Still, 


42    The  Three  Godfathers 

if  we  follow  the  book  it  may  save  Robert 
from  chafin'  an'  gettin'  saddle  galls  on  him. 
Hand  over  the  ile,  Bob,  an'  we'll  slick  the 
young  feller  up  a  mite.  It's  just  the  tender- 
ness o'  hell  we  don't  have  to  use  axle- 
grease!" 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  held  the  naked 
babe  in  his  lap,  across  which  he  had  spread 
the  towel,  and  The  Worst  Bad  Man  applied 
the  oil. 

"Roll  him  over,  Bill." 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  rolled  him  over, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  task  was  com- 
pleted. Dressing  the  infant,  however,  was 
infinitely  more  laborious.  The  godfathers, 
knowing  something  of  the  biting  chill  of 
the  desert  nights,  were  grateful  for  the  pro- 
fusion of  woolen  clothing  and  delicate 
woolen  baby  blankets  which  their  search 
of  the  tailbox  had  netted,  and  when  in  due 
course  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  had  suc- 
ceeded in  dressing  the  infant  after  a  non- 
descript fashion  of  his  own,  The  Worst  Bad 


The  Three  Godfathers    43 

Man  corked  the  olive  oil  bottle,  wiped  his 
hands  on  his  trousers,  and  beamed  with  the 
consciousness  of  a  duty  well  performed. 

Next,  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  ran  his 
horny  thumb  down  the  index  of  Doctor 
Meecham  on  Caring  for  the  Baby,  until 
he  came  to  the  chapter  entitled:  "Feeding 
the  Baby."  This  chapter  he  real  aloud. 

"This  is  comfortin',''  he  remarked,  turn- 
ing down  the  leaf  to  mark  the  page.  "Doc- 
tor Meecham  says  that  there's  times  when  a 
baby  won't  thrive  on  nothin'  else  but  con- 
densed milk.  We  got  plenty  o'  that." 

"Yes,  an'  we  can  maul  up  some  o'  them 
sody  crackers  an'  make  some  pap  for  him," 
replied  The  Worst  Bad  Man;  "an'  in  a 
pinch  we  can  bile  him  a  pot  o'  gruel." 

"We'll  need  water  for  that,  Tom,"  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man  reminded  him;  "an' 
we'll  need  water  to  dilute  this  here  con- 
densed milk  an'  warm  it  up  for  the  feedin' 
bottle.  I  'low  some  of  the  godfathers's 
goin'  to  suck  niggerhead  cactus  enough  to 


44    The  Three  Godfathers 

do  'em  quite  a  spell  before  they  hit  New 
Jerusalem." 

"That's  right,"  The  Worst  Bad  Man  re- 
plied gravely;  "Robert  William  Thomas's 
got  to  have  the  water,  an'  Jerusalem's  the 
nearest  camp,  an'  it's  about  forty-five  mile 
as  the  crow  flies.  Malapai  Springs  is  back 
there  thirty-odd  mile,  though 

"There  ain't  no  women  at  Malapai 
Springs,"  retorted  The  Wounded  Bad  Man 
pointedly,  "and  we  can't  fool  no  time  in  the 
desert  with  this  infant.  It's  up  to  us  to  hike 
— an'  hike  lively — to  New  Jerusalem. 
We've  got  six  cans  o'  condensed  milk,  an' 
we  can't  get  morn't  three  shots  o'  milk  from 
each  can.  It's  going  to  spoil  quick  after 
it's  opened.  Besides,  if  we 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  had  just  been  the 
recipient  of  a  serious  thought.  He  hastened 
to  get  it  off  his  mind.  Boylike  he  inter- 
rupted and  rose  to  a  question  of  informa- 
tion. 


The  Three  Godfathers    45 

"What's  a  godfather,  Bill?  What  job 
does  he  hold  down?" 

"You're  an  awful  ignorant  young  man, 
Bob,"  replied  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  re- 
proachfully. "You  been  raised  out  in  the 
woods  somewheres?  A  godfather,  Bob,  is 
a  sort  of  reserve  parent.  When  a  kid  is 
baptized  there's  a  godfather  an'  a  god- 
mother present,  an'  for  an'  on  behalf  o'  the 
kid  they  promise  the  preacher,  just  the  same 
as  the  kid  would  if  he  could  only  talk,  to 
renounce  the  devil  with  all  his  works  an' 
pomps : 

"What's  his  works  and  pumps?"  demand- 
ed The  Youngest  Bad  Man. 

"Well — robbin'  banks  an'  shootin'  up 
deputy  sheriffs,  et  cetry,  et  cetry." 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  smiled  wanly. 
"Well,  Bill,  all  I  got  to  say  is  that  us 
three're  a  lovely  bunch  o'  godfathers.  Best 
thing  we  can  do  is  to  shunt  the  job  to  a  god- 
mother." 

"But  there  ain't  no  godmother,"  said  The 


46    The  Three  Godfathers 

Worst  Bad  Man  sadly.  "It's  up  to  us.  She" 
— he  jerked  an  oily  thumb  toward  the  little 
mound  of  sand  and  rock — "she  said  some- 
thin'  about  teachin'  him  his  prayers  an' 
bringin'  him  up  a  big,  brave,  strong  man — 
like — like  his  godfathers." 

"Well,  that's  part  of  the  job,  too,"  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man  informed  them.  "I 
went  to  a  Sunday-school  when  I  was  a  kid, 
an'  I  know  what  I'm  talkin'  about.  A  god- 
father's got  to  keep  his  eye  peeled  an'  see 
that  his  godchild  gets  a  ree-ligious  educa- 
tion." 

"Then,"  said  The  Youngest  Bad  Man, 
"I  reckon  we'd  better  tote  along  this  here 
Bible.  I  just  come  across  somethin'  inter- 
estin'.  It's  about  Jesus  Christ  ridin'  into 
Jerusalem.  Listen": 

And  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  proceeded 
to  read  from  the  Gospel  according  to  St. 
Matthew: 

"And  when  they  drew  nigh  unto  Jeru- 
salem, and  were  come  to  Bethphage,  unto 


The  Three  Godfathers    47 

the  Mount  of  Olives,  then  sent  Jesus  two 
disciples, 

"Saying  unto  them,  Go  into  the  village 
over  against  you,  and  straightway  ye  shall 
find  an  ass  tied,  and  a  colt  with  her:  loose 
them,  and  bring  them  unto  me. 

"And  if  any  man  say  ought  unto  you,  ye 
shall  say,  The  Lord  hath  need  of  them;  and 
straightway  he  will  send  them." 

"Rot!"  snapped  The  Worst  Bad  Man.  "I 
don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  You  try  swipin' 
a  man's  jacks,  with  or  without  a  colt,  in 
this  country,  an'  see  what  happens  if  you 
say  the  Lord  hath  need  of  them.  The  Lord 
won't  save  you  nohow.  But  cut  out  this 
religious  talk,  Bob,  an'  rustle  up  some  sage- 
brush for  a  fire.  We'll  heat  some  of  this 
airtight  milk  and  feed  our  godson  before  we 
leave." 

The  fire  was  lit  forthwith,  and  the  con- 
densed milk  prepared  according  to  the  in- 
structions laid  down  by  Doctor  Meecham. 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  poured  the  water, 


48    The  Three  Godfathers 

while  the  other  two  godfathers  guarded 
jealously  every  drop.  He  heated  the  mix- 
ture to  the  proper  temperature,  warmed  the 
feeding  bottle  in  it  and  then  filled  the  bottle. 
The  Wounded  Bad  Man  sat  with  the  baby 
in  his  lap  and  pressed  the  feeding  bottle  to 
the  little  stranger's  lips. 

It  was  an  anxious  moment  to  the  three 
godfathers.  Would  he  or  would  he  not 
"take  hold"?  He  did,  promptly,  with  a 
gusto  that  brought  a  howl  of  delight  from 
The  Worst  Bad  Man. 

"I  sure  do  admire  to  see  the  way  that 
young  feller  adapts  himself  to  conditions." 
said  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  proudly. 

"Hops  right  to  it,  like  a  drunkard  to  a 
Fourth  of  July  barbecue,"  said  The  Young- 
est Bad  Man.  "He'll  do."  There  was  all 
the  pride  of  fatherhood  in  the  boy's  tones. 
"Game  little  pup,  ain't  he?" 

"His  poor  little  ma  was  game,"  remarked 
The  Worst  Bad  Man.  "He  comes  by  it 
natural.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  coyote 


The  Three  Godfathers    49 

his  old  man  was.  It'd  sure  be  a  sin  if  this 
boy  grew  up  to  be  as  big  a  fool  as  his  father. 
I'd  turn  over  in  my  grave." 

"Well,  that's  up  to  the  last  of  the  god- 
fathers," said  The  Wounded  Bad  Man. 
"Mind  you  learn  him  boss-sense,  Bob.  Don't 
let  him  grow  up  to  wear  eyeglasses  before 
he's  twenty-one  years  old,  an'  make  him  say 
'sir'  when  he  speaks  to  you.  Teach  him 
boss-sense  and  respect,  Bob.  Them's  the 
two  great  requirements  to  a  man's  educa- 
tion." 

"The  way  he's  downin'  his  provender," 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  remarked,  "he'll  be 
full  up  in  five  minutes  and  want  to  go  to 
sleep.  It's  too  hot  to  resk  him  out  just  now, 
an'  Doc  Meecham  says  he's  go  to  be  fed 
every  four  hours.  We'll  set  up  the  drinks 
to  Robert  agin  at  four  o'clock,  an'  then  we'll 
git  out  o'  this  hole  a-flyin'.  Pendin'  our  de- 
parture, Bob,  my  son,  you  pull  off  to  one 
side  an'  study  all  that  Doctor  Meecham  has 
to  say  about  carin'  for  the  baby. 


50    The  Three  Godfathers 

"Knowledge  ain't  so  awful  heavy,  my  son, 
when  you  carry  it  in  your  head,  an'  this  Doc 
Meecham  book  weighs  more'n  two  pounds. 
Bill'll  take  a  little  sleep,  an'  I'll  keep  the 
flies  off'n  him  an'  the  infant. 

•  •••••• 

It  was  almost  sun-down  when  the  three 
godfathers  left  Terrapin  Tanks  with  their 
godson  and  struck  off  through  the  low  black 
hills  toward  the  northeast.  A  cold  night 
wind  was  springing  up,  and  to  the  thirsty 
godfathers,  not  one  of  whom  had  tasted 
water  since  sun-up  that  morning,  the  cool 
breeze  was  refreshing. 

Up  the  wild,  lonely  draws  they  trudged, 
the  sleeping  infant,  wrapped  in  a  double 
blanket,  reposing  in  the  hollow  of  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man's  sound  arm.  The 
man's  face  was  drawn  and  very  haggard, 
and  he  staggered  slightly  from  weakness 
once  or  twice  in  spots  where  the  trail  was 
rough.  The  Youngest  Bad  Man,  follow- 
ing at  his  heels,  was  quick  to  notice  this. 


The  Three  Godfathers    51 

"Here,  I  ain't  carryin'  an  ounce  o' 
weight,"  he  expostulated.  "Bill's  carryin' 
th'  water  an'  the  airtight  milk  an'  the  f  eedin' 
bottle  an'  the  camp  kettle  and  our  grub,  an1 
you're  carryin'  the  baby  an'  a  bundle  of 
extra  clothes.  Lemme  spell  you  a  few 
miles,  Bill.  You're  in  bad  shape  with 
that  sore  shoulder,  an'  you're  goin'  to  wear 
yourself  out  too  soon." 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  shook  his  head. 
"I'll  carry  him  as  far  as  I  can  while  I  got 
the  strength  to  do  it.  I  ain't  carryin'  more'n 
fifteen  pounds,  but  it'll  be  enough  for  you 
before  you  get  to  New  Jerusalem." 

"Why,  ain't  you  comin'  with  us?"  de- 
manded The  Youngest  Bad  Man. 

"No,"  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  retorted 
firmly,  "I  ain't." 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  turned  in  the  trail, 
unscrewed  the  cap  of  the  canteen  and  held 
the  canteen  toward  the  Wounded  Bad 
Man. 

"I  think  we  can  spare  just  one  mouthful, 


52    The  Three  Godfathers 

Bill,"  he  said  kindly.  ;  "You  bein'  hit 
through  the  shoulder  that-a-way,  naturally 
we  don't  hold  you  so  rigid  to  the  rule." 

The  Wounded  Bad  Man  had  been  nuz- 
zling the  baby's  forehead  with  the  tip  of 
his  great  sunburnt  nose.  Now  he  raised 
his  head  quickly  and  his  face  was  terrible 
to  behold. 

"I've  done  a  heap  o'  ornery  things  in  my 
day,"  he  growled,  "but  I  ain't  stealin'  the 
water  that  belongs  to  my  godson.  Don't 
you  insult  me  no  more,  Tom  Gibbons." 

"That  reminds  me,"  remarked  The 
Worst  Bad  Man  affably,  "you're  carryin' 
some  extra  weight." 

He  reached  forward,  unbuckled  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man's  belt,  with  its  forty 
rounds  of  pistol  cartridge  and  the  heavy  re- 
volver, and  tossed  it  into  the  greasewood. 

"That  helps  some!"  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  growled  out  the  words  again. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  hour  after 


The  Three  Godfathers    53 

hour.  Presently  as  they  trudged  along  The 
Worst  Bad  Man  began  lighting  matches. 

"Nine  o'clock,"  he  announced.  "Third 
drink-time  for  Robert  William  Thomas. 
We'll  make  a  dry  camp  an'  heat  some  more 
milk — listen!" 

From  a  draw  to  the  right  there  came, 
borne  on  the  night  wind,  the  sound  of  sav- 
age growling  and  yelping,  as  of  dogs  quar- 
reling over  a  bone. 

"Coyotes,"  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  eluci- 
dated. "They  got  somethin'." 

"Move  along  out  o'  here,"  cried  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man  irritably.  "I  don't 
want  to  listen  to  that.  They'll  get  me  soon 
enough." 

They  moved  farther  up  the  draw  and 
camped  for  half  an  hour.  Again  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man  fed  the  baby,  and  once 
more  they  swung  away  on  their  sorry  road 
to  New  Jerusalem.  Toward  morning  the 
baby  awoke  and  whimpered,  and  The 
Wounded  Bad  Man,  who  never  once  dur- 


54    The  Three  Godfathers 

ing  the  long  night  had   relinquished   his 
trust,  sought  to  soothe  it  with  song. 

Oh,  Ella  Ree,  so  kind  an'  true, 
In  th'  little  churchyard  lies. 

Her  grave  is  bright  with  drops  o'  dew, 
But  brighter  were  her  eyes. 

Then  carry  me  back  to  Tennessee, 
There  let  me 

It  was  a  melody  of  his  childhood.  His 
mother  had  sung  it  to  him  in  the  old  lost 
days  of  his  youth  and  innocence,  and  the 
plaintive  ballad  came  cracked  and  quaver- 
ing through  lips  swollen  with  suffering.  It 
was  a  mournful  song,  but  it  seemed  appro- 
priate, for  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  was 
thinking  of  the  little  mother  away  off  there 
in  the  silence  at  Terrapin  Tanks.  Whether 
from  this  or  physical  inability  to  proceed 
farther,  his  voice  broke  in  the  second  line 
of  the  chorus. 


The  Three  Godfathers   55 

"Dog  my  cats,"  he  gasped  feebly,  "I 
can't  sing  a  lick  no  more!" 

"I'll  sing  for  him,"  volunteered  The 
Youngest  Bad  Man;  "I'l  give  him  The  Yel- 
ler  Rose  o'  Texas." 

They  made  fifteen  miles  that  first  night, 
and  at  sun-up  they  emerged  from  the  black 
volcanic  hills  out  on  to  a  great,  white,  shim- 
mering, dry  salt  lake.  A  mile  away  a  little 
cabin,  dazzling  white  in  the  glint  of  the 
rising  sun,  flared  against  the  horizon,  and 
far  to  the  northeast  the  Witch  of  Old  Wom- 
an Mountain  sat  watching  them. 

"Over  there  on  the  southeast  spur  of  Old 
Woman  you'll  find  New  Jerusalem,  Bob," 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  explained.  "That 
mountain  with  the  rocky  crest  that 
looks  like  a  witch  in  profile — that's  Old 
Woman  Mountain.  Watch  the  Witch, 
Bob,  an'  you'll  get  there." 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  nodded.  "We 
can't  carry  the  baby  in  this  heat,"  he  re- 
minded them.  "Hand  him  over,  Bill,  and 


56    The  Three  Godfathers 

I'll  just  buck-jump  along  to  that  little  cabin 
an'  hole  up  with  him  till  you  an'  Tom  catch 
up." 

"I'll  carry  him,"  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  retorted  doggedly. 

"You'll  not."  The  Youngest  Bad  Man 
was  aroused.  "You're  dyin'  on  your  feet, 
Bill  Kearny,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  see  you 
stand  by  an'  fall  with  my  godson  an'  hurt 
him  maybe.  Come  across  with  him." 

Reluctantly  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  sur- 
rendered the  child  to  The  Youngest  Bad 
Man.  The  latter  was  drawn  and  weary 
himself,  but  he  had  what  neither  of  his  com- 
rades possessed — he  had  glorious  Youth. 
He  would  still  be  on  his  feet  and  traveling 
with  his  godson  when  the  coyotes  would 
be  quarreling  over  the  others.  He  trotted 
off  now,  in  a  hurry  to  reach  the  lone  cabin 
before  the  heat  became  too  oppressive. 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  looked  after  him 
enviously.  "What  a  man!"  he  muttered. 
"Lean  an'  long  an'  tough.  If  we  strike  some 


The  Three  Godfathers    57 

niggerhead  cactus  he'll  get  through.  He 
can  last  two  days  more." 

"But  I  don't  see  no  niggerhead  cactus," 
complained  The  Wounded  Bad  Man.  "It's 
ten  miles  across  this  salt  lake,  an' " 

He  swayed  and  fell  on  his  hands  and 
knees.  The  Worst  Bad  Man  helped  him 
up.  They  stood  for  a  moment,  leaning 
against  each  other,  resting;  then  plodded 
weakly  on.  The  Worst  Bad  Man  was  the 
first  to  speak.  His  tongue  was  dry  and 
swollen  but  he  could  still  speak  plainly. 

"D'ye  remember,  Bill,  that  yarn  that  Bob 
read  us  outen  that  Bible  last  night — about 
Christ  ridin'  into  Jerusalem  an'  Him  send- 
in'  two  men  over  to  the  nearest  camp  for  a 
jinny  with  a  colt?  It  kinder  set  me  thinkin', 
an'  I  been  wonderin'  all  night.  Bill,  do  you 
believe  in  God?" 

"I  dunno,"  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  re- 
plied thickly.  "I  usen't  to,  but  I  dunno  now. 
I  seen  things  yesterday — in  that  woman's 
eyes  when  she  talked  about  the  baby  not 


58    The  Three  Godfathers 

havin'  anybody  to  teach  him  his  prayers  an1 
him  growin'  up  a  fine,  good  man.  I  been 
wonderin',  too,  Tom.  You  don't  suppose, 
Tom,  that  the  Bible's  wrong  and  that  Christ 
sent  three  disciples  instead  o'  two?" 

"Why?" 

"Because,"— The  Wounded  Bad  Man 
paused  and  looked  at  his  companion  very 
impressively — "I  kinder  feel  like  me  an' 
you  an'  Bob  was  disciples — since  I  seen  that 
girl  an'  held  that  little  mite  of  a  kid  in  my 
arms.  I  been  figgerin'  it  out,  Tom,  an'  I 
allow  that  Bob  ought  to  make  Jerusalem 
with  Robert  William  Thomas  some  time 
Christmas  mornin'.  The  thought's  com- 
forted me  a  heap.  Somehow  I  sorter  got 
the  notion  that  there  can't  no  hard  luck 
come  to  a  Christmas  baby,  an'  Christ  just 
naturally  can't  go  back  on  us  if  we  play  the 
game  fair  by  that  kid." 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  nodded  grave  ap- 
proval to  these  sentiments.  The  Wounded 
Bad  man  continued: 


The  Three  Godfathers    59 

"It  sorter  sets  my  mind  back  thirty-five 
years.  My  folks  used  to  take  me  to  church 
when  I  was  a  kid.  I  wasn't  a  churchgoer 
by  nature,  but  there  was  one  picture  on  the 
wall  of  that  church  of  a  naked  baby  lyin'  in 
his  mother's  lap,  an'  when  the  sun'd  come 
streamin'  in  through  them  stained-glass  win- 
dows it  used  to  light  up  their  faces  kinder 
beautiful.  An'  yesterday  mornin'  when  the 
sun" — here  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  stum- 
bled and  fell  once  more.  He  picked  him- 
self up  and  continued  wearily — "and  when 
the  sun  come  streakin'  over  the  Terrapin 
Tanks  an'  shone  into  that  wagon,  I  swear  to 
God,  Tom,  it  was  the  same  two  faces!" 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  made  no  reply.  Pri- 
vately he  was  of  the  opinion  that  his  com- 
panion was  delirious.  The  latter's  next 
remark,  however,  precluded  this  idea. 

"We  ain't  done  right  by  young  Bob  Sang- 
ster,"  he  complained.  "We're  a  pair  o' 
hard  old  skunks,  Tom,  an'  we've  kinder  in- 
fluenced that  boy.  He  ain't  bad.  There 


60    The  Three  Godfathers 

ain't  nothin'  naturally  crooked  in  Bob.  He's 
just  young,  an'  thinks  he's  havin'  adventures 
an'  makin'  a  big  man  of  himself.  That  job 
at  Wickenburg  was  the  first  trick  he  ever 
turned.  Before  you  boys  leave  me  I'm  goin' 
to  talk  to  Bob.  I'm  going  to  talk  while  I 
got  my  voice,  because  by  noon  my  tongue'll 
be  out  of  kilter — 

"I'll  talk  to  him  too,"  assented  The  Worst 
Bad  Man  eagerly.  "I  was  thinkin'  the  same 
thoughts  as  you,  Bill.  The  last  o'  the  god- 
fathers can't  be  no  crook,  Bill.  He's  got  to 
do  his  duty  by  the  infant." 

An  hour  later  they  arrived  at  the  white 
cabin  on  the  dry  salt  lake.  It  was  not  the 
kind  of  house  one  sees  in  cities,  for  it  was 
built  entirely  of  blocks  of  rock  salt,  of  such 
crystal  clearness  that  as  the  two  godfathers 
approached  they  could  discern  the  vague 
outlines  of  Bob  Sangster  sitting  inside  with 
the  baby.  The  roof  of  the  house  was  of 
canvas,  sun-baked,  rotten  and  filled  with 
holes.  Evidently  the  strange  habitation 


The  Three  Godfathers    61 

had  been  the  abode  of  some  desert  visionary, 
who  planned  to  file  on  the  salt  lake  and  sell 
his  concession  to  the  Salt  Trust. 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  gave  the  baby 
into  the  keeping  of  The  Wounded  Bad  Man 
once  more,  while  he  and  The  Worst  Bad 
Man  busied  themselves  spreading  the 
double  blanket  over  the  ruined  canvas  roof- 
ing to  keep  out  the  sun.  Next  they  pre- 
pared some  condensed  milk  and  set  the  feed- 
ing bottle  out  in  the  hot  salt  gravel  until  it 
should  be  heated  to  the  right  temperature. 
And  while  they  waited,  sitting  there  in 
silence,  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  leaned 
back  against  the  salt  wall  and  closed  his 
tired  eyes.  The  Worst  Bad  Man  stooped 
and  took  the  baby  from  him;  yet  he  did  not 
seem  to  be  aware  of  this  action.  This  was 
a  bad  sign.  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  shook 
his  head  dubiously. 

Presently  The  Wounded  Bad  Man  spoke. 
His  speech  was  very  thick  and  labored,  like 
that  of  a  paralyzed  man. 


62    The  Three  Godfathers 

"Bob,"  he  said,  "I  had  somethin'  to  say 
to  you,  but  I'm  too  weak  to  preach  now. 
Tom'll  tell  you.  Got  that  Bible  yet?" 

"Yes,  Bill,  I  got  it." 

"All  right,  Bob.  I'm  just  goin'  to  find 
out  if  there's  a  God,  and  if  there  is  I  guess 
He'll  give  me  a  square  deal.  I'm  goin'  to 
give  Him  three  chances  to  prove  He's  on 
the  job,  an'  I  got  to  win  two  heats  out  o' 
three  before  I'll  believe.  Open  that  Bible, 
Bob,  an'  read  me  the  very  first  thing  you 


see." 


The  Youngest  Bad  Man  opened  the  Bible 
and  read  from  the  Gospel  according  to  St. 
Matthew: 

"And  Jesus  called  a  little  child  unto  Him, 
and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  them, 

"And  said,  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Except 
ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little  chil- 
dren, ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

"Whosoever  therefore  shall  humble  him- 
self as  this  little  child,  the  same  is  greatest 
in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


The  Three  Godfathers    63 

"And  whoso  shall  receive  one  such  little 
child  in  my  name  receiveth  me." 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  closed  the  book. 

"Open  it  again,"  The  Wounded  Bad  Man 
commanded. 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  opened  it  at  ran- 
dom and  read  from  the  Gospel  according 
to  St.  Luke: 

"And  one  of  the  malefactors  which  were 
hanged  railed  on  him,  saying,  If  thou  be 
Christ,  save  thyself  and  us. 

"But  the  other  answering  rebuked  him, 
saying,  "Dost  not  thou  fear  God,  seeing  thou 
art  in  the  same  condemnation? 

"And  we  indeed  justly;  for  we  receive  the 
due  reward  of  our  deeds :  but  this  man  hath 
done  nothing  amiss. 

"And  he  said  unto  Jesus,  Lord,  remember 
me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom. 

"And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Verily  I  say 
unto  thee,  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in 
paradise." 

"That'll     do,     Bob,"     murmured    The 


64    The  Three  Godfathers 

Wounded  Bad  Man.  "I  call  upon  you  an' 
Tom  to  witness  that  I  receive  that  woman's 
baby — in  God's  name.  If  I  whimper  for 
water  don't  give  it  to  me.  There's  blood 
poison  in  my  shoulder  an'  arm  an'  I'm  goin' 
crazy.  I'm  burnin'  up — but  it's  comin'  to 
me,  Lord,  it's  comin'  to  me.  I  don't  com- 
plain none,  Lord,  an'  I  thank  Thee  for 
bringin'  me  this  far — with  the  little  chap— 
for  Thy  sake,  Lord.  Our  Father,  who  art 
— who  art — who  art — who  art — in  Heaven, 
blessed — I  can't  remember,  Bob.  It's  a  long 
time.  .  .  .  I'll  try  another— 

"He's  off  at  last,"  muttered  The  Worst 
Bad  Man.  "It's  the  blood  poison.  He's 
been  dyin'  since  we  left  Malapai  Springs. 
Listen  at  him,  Bob.  What  kind  o'  stuff  is 
he  talkin'? — listen!" 

They  bent  over  The  Wounded  Bad  Man 
and  listened  intently,  for  it  seemed  to  them 
he  was  wandering  far  afield  in  his  delir- 
ium. He  was.  Bill  Kearny's  body  was 


The  Three  Godfathers    65 

dying,  but  his  soul  was  wandering  adown 
the  wild  and  checkered  path  of  his  career 
to  its  dim  and  distant  starting  point. 

"Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep. 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take." 

"God  bless  my  father  and  mother  and  my 
little  sister — and  make  me  a  good  boy. 
Amen!" 

The  Worst  Bad  Man's  face  twitched  a 
little. 

"Good  Jesus  Christ!"  he  murmured.  The 
words  were  not  a  blasphemy.  They  fell 
from  his  blackened  lips  like  a  benediction — 
in  his  fierce  eyes  a  soft  and  human  light  was 
beaming.  "Jesus  Christ  is  good.  He's 
slippin'  it  easy  to  old  Bill.  He's  made  him 
a  child  again." 

Throughout  the  long,  stifling  day  they  sat 
and  watched  him,  and  when  he  became  de- 


66    The  Three  Godfathers 

lirious  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  took  the 
baby  in  hand,  in  case  The  Wounded  Bad 
Man  should  suddenly  become  violent.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  when  the  baby  had  been 
fed  and  wrapped  again  in  the  blanket,  pre- 
paratory to  taking  the  trail  once  more,  the 
dying  godfather  rolled  over  and  opened  his 
eyes.  They  bent  to  hear  his  last  message. 
It  was  almost  unintelligible. 

"It's  a  Christmas  baby — it  belongs — in 
Jerus — alem.  Stick  it  out  to — finish — good 
— boys — don't  let — my — godson — die — be- 
tween— two — thieves— 

They  pressed  his  hand.  The  Worst  Bad 
Man  had  the  pack  ready  and  slipped  it  over 
his  weary  shoulders.  He  reached  for  the 
baby. 

"Gimme  the  kid,"  he  cried  thickly.  "I 
got  ten  miles  left  in  me  yet.  I'll  see  you 
across  the  dry  lake." 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  understood  now. 
He  handed  over  the  baby,  and  together  the 
two  godfathers  passed  out  of  the  shack  into 


The  Three  Godfathers    67 

the  great  salt  desert  .  .  .  And  some  time 
during  the  night  the  angels  came  and  led 
Bill  Kearny  into  paradise. 

After  leaving  the  cabin  The  Worst  Bad 
Man,  realizing  that  the  next  ten  miles  of 
their  journey  across  the  salt  lake  offered 
free,  smooth  footing,  resolved  to  make  the 
pace  while  the  "going"  was  good.  They 
were  no  longer  hampered  by  being  forced 
to  suit  their  gait  to  that  of  Bill  Kearny,  and 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  was  resolved  to  see  his 
godson  safe  across  the  dry  lake  before 
surrendering. 

He  swayed  considerably  as  he  walked, 
but  The  Youngest  Bad  Man  strode  beside 
him,  with  a  hand  on  his  arm,  and  helped  to 
hold  him  steady.  And  as  they  proceeded 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  talked  to  Bob  Sang- 
ster.  It  was  a  short  sermon,  evolved,  in 
terse,  eloquent  sentences,  from  out  the  bit- 
terness of  The  Worst  Bad  Man's  dark  past 
and  still  darker  future. 

"Bill  Kearny  never  went  back  on  a  pal, 


68    The  Three  Godfathers 

son,  an'  when  I  quit  you  I  want  you  to  say, 
'Well,  Tom  Gibbons,  he  never  went  back 
on  a  pal  nuther.'  An'  when  you  come  to 
cash  in,  you  want  to  have  our  godson  say, 
'An'  Bob  Sangster,  too — he  never  went  back 
on  a  pal.'  Cut  out  the  crooked  work,  son. 
Nobody  has  anythin'  on  you  yet — start 
straight  an'  raise  this  boy  straight,  an'  if  ever 
you  spot  him  showin'  signs  o'  breakin'  away 
from  the  reservation,  just  you  remind  him 
that  a  woman  an'  two  men  died  to  make  a 
man  outer  him.  That's  all.  I  ain't  goin' 
to  try  to  talk  no  more." 

At  midnight  The  Worst  Bad  Man  was 
very  weak.  He  swayed  and  staggered  and 
stopped  every  few  hundred  yards  to  rest, 
but  he  would  not  give  up  the  baby. 

"I'll  last  till  sun-up,"  he  told  himself;  "I 
got  to.  I  ain't  the  quittin'  kind." 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the 
moon  came  out;  from  somewhere  in  the  dis- 
tance a  coyote  gave  tongue,  and  The  Worst 
Bad  Man  shivered  a  little.  At  three  o'clock 


The  Three  Godfathers    69 

they  came  out  of  the  dry  salt  lake  into  the 
sands  again,  and  The  Youngest  Bad  Man 
held  out  his  arms  for  the  baby. 

"He  needs  grub  mighty  bad,"  was  what 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  tried  to  say,  but  the 
words  came  only  as  an  unintelligible  mum- 
ble. There  had  been  no  sage  on  the  dry 
lake  and  they  had  been  unable  to  make  a 
fire.  For  two  hours  the  baby  had  been 
whimpering  with  hunger  and  cold.  The 
Worst  Bad  Man  slipped  out  of  his  pack, 
gathered  some  dry  sagebrush  and  lit  a  roar- 
ing fire,  while  his  youthful  companion  min- 
istered to  the  baby.  And  when  Bob  Sang- 
ster  had  finished  The  Worst  Bad  Man 
smoothed  a  two-foot  area  in  the  sand,  and 
by  the  light  of  the  campfire  he  wrote  with 
his  finger  the  words  that  he  could  not  speak: 

"You  carry  baby.  I'm  good  two  three 
miles  more  with  pack.  I  leave  you  twelve 
miles  from  New  Jerusalem.  Don't  lay  up 
today  keep  moving  put  baby  half  rations 
sarvy." 


70    The  Three  Godfathers 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  nodded.  When 
dawn  began  to  show  in  the  east  they  re- 
sumed the  journey.  After  the  first  mile, 
The  Worst  Bad  Man  gave  signs  that  the  end 
was  coming  very  soon.  He  fell  more  fre- 
quently, barking  his  hands  and  knees,  filling 
his  mouth  and  eyes  with  sand,  tearing  his 
flesh  in  the  catclaws.  Weary,  monotonous 
gasps  came  from  his  constricted  throat,  but 
still  he  staggered  along,  although  his 
strength  had  been  gone  for  hours.  He  was 
traveling  on  his  nerve  now. 

Slowly  the  dawnlight  crept  over  the 
desert,  softening  with  its  magic  beauty  the 
harsh  empire  of  death.  The  Worst  Bad 
Man  saw  the  rosy  glow  lighting  up  the 
saturnine  face  of  the  witch  of  Old  Woman 
Mountain,  and  was  content.  He  had  prom- 
ised himself  to  last  till  dawn.  He  had  kept 
his  word. 

He  sank  to  his  knees  in  the  sand.  Bob 
Sangster  stooped  and  lifted  him  to  his  feet. 
He  staggered  along  a  few  yards  and  fell 


The  Three  Godfathers    71 

again,  and  when  Bob  Sangster  would  fain 
have  lifted  him  once  more,  The  Worst  Bad 
Man  motioned  him  back  with  an  imperious 
wave  of  his  hand,  for  he  did  not  want  the 
boy  to  waste  his  strength.  He  tried  to  pro- 
test verbally,  but  a  horrible  sound  was  all 
that  came  from  his  swollen  mouth. 

The  Youngest  Bad  Man  tarried  for  a 
moment,  irresolute,  standing  over  him.  The 
Worst  Bad  Man  deliberately  removed  his 
hat  and  handed  it  to  the  young  godfather, 
who  took  it,  fitted  a  branch  of  sagebrush 
with  three  forks  at  one  end  into  the  crown 
of  the  wide-brimmed  hat,  and  thus  con- 
structed a  sort  of  crude  parasol  wherewith 
to  keep  the  sun  from  the  baby.  The  Worst 
Bad  Man  nodded  his  approbation,  and  Bob 
Sangster  lowered  the  baby  until  its  soft  little 
face  brushed  the  bloody  bristles  on  The 
Worst  Bad  Man's  cheek;  a  handclasp — and 
the  last  of  the  godfathers  turned  his  young 
face  toward  New  Jerusalem  and  departed 
into  the  eye  of  the  coming  day. 


12    The  Three  Godfathers 

The  Worst  Bad  Man  watched  him  until 
he  disappeared  into  the  neutrals  of  the 
desert  before  he  turned  his  head  to  glance 
back  along  the  trail  by  which  they  had 
come.  Away  off  to  the  southwest,  forty 
miles  away,  the  Cathedral  Peaks  lifted  their 
castellated  spires,  and  the  gaze  of  the  strick- 
en godfather  went  no  farther.  The  Cathe- 
dral Peaks — how  like  a  church  they  seemed, 
standing  there  in  the  solitude,  sublime,  inde- 
structible, eternal,  gazing  down  the  cen- 
turies. The  Worst  Bad  Man  was  moved 
to  solemn  thought — he  who  had  so  little 
time  for  thought  now.  His  mind  harkened 
back  to  the  scene  in  the  salt  house  on  the 
dry  lake,  to  Bill  Kearny's  challenge  to  the 
Omnipotent,  to  the  answers  that  came  to 
that  anguished  soul  crying  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  doubt  and  unbelief;  and  suddenly  a 
great  desire  came  over  The  Worst  Bad 
Man.  He,  too,  wanted  to  know.  He,  too, 
would  ask  a  sign.  And  if  there  was  a 
God 


The  Three  Godfathers    73 

He  stretched  forth  his  arms  toward  the 
Cathedral  Peaks.  "Lord,  give  me  a  sign," 
he  gobbled;  "let  me  have  The  Light";  and, 
as  if  in  answer  to  his  cry,  the  sun  burst  over 
the  crest  of  the  Panimints,  a  long  shaft  of 
light  shot  across  the  desert  and  painted,  in 
colors  designed  by  the  Master  Artist,  the 
distant  spires  of  the  Cathedral  Peaks.  They 
flamed  in  crimson,  in  gold,  in  flashes  of  sil- 
ver light,  fading  away  into  turquoise  and 
deep  maroon,  and  in  that  light  The  Worst 
Bad  Man  read  the  answer  to  his  riddle. 

"Lord,  I  believe."  The  horrid  gobbling 
broke  the  silence  once  more.  "Remember 
me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom." 

And  then  the  desert  madness  smote  his 
brain,  and  with  the  sudden,  terrible  strength 
of  the  maniac  he  scrambled  to  his  feet  and 
started  across  the  waste  toward  the  peaks. 
Over  the  long  trail  to  the  Great  Divide  he 
ran,  with  arms  outstretched;  and  as  he  ran 
the  Peaks  flamed  and  flickered  in  helio- 
graph flashes.  Perhaps  they  carried  a  mes- 


14    The  Three  Godfathers 

sage,  a  message  that  only  The  Worst  Bad 
Man  could  understand — the  message  of 
hope  eternal  sounding  down  the  ages: 

"Today  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  para- 
dise." 

Presently  The  Worst  Bad  Man  fell.  It 
was  the  end.  He  had  kept  the  faith. 

But  Bob  Sangster  could  not  wait  and 
watch  and  speculate.  Time  pressed;  at 
Terrapin  Tanks  he  had  passed  his  word, 
and  he  must  be  moving  on  if  he  would  save 
his  godson.  He  had  one  can  of  condensed 
milk  and  half  a  quart  of  water  left.  It  be- 
hooved him  to  hurry. 

When  the  sun  was  an  hour  high  and  the 
desolate  landscape  lay  baking  and  shim- 
mering round  him,  he  crept  into  the  meager 
shadow  of  a  palo-verde  tree,  undressed  the 
infant,  rubbed  him  with  the  last  of  the  olive 
oil  and  threw  the  bottle  away.  Then  with 
new,  fresh  garments  carried  from  Terrapin 
Tanks  he  dressed  the  baby.  He  wet  his. 


The  Three  Godfathers    75 

bandana  handkerchief  and  washed  the  lit- 
tle red  face.  He  was  preparing  for  the 
final  dash. 

He  abandoned  the  supply  of  mesquit- 
bean  bread  and  jerked  beef,  the  Bible,  and 
Doctor  Meecham's  invaluable  work  on 
Caring  for  the  Baby.  He  considered  a  mo- 
ment, and  decided  to  abandon  also  the 
heavy  woolen  blanket  in  which  they  had 
been  carrying  the  baby.  It  mea'nt  six 
pounds  less  weight,  and  unless  they  made 
New  Jerusalem  before  sundown  Robert 
William  Thomas  would  not  need  it.  With 
or  without  blankets,  they  would  both  sleep 
cold  under  the  stars  tonight,  for  Bob  Sang- 
ster  was  once  more  confronted  by  the  primal 
necessity  of  his  calling.  He  had  to  "take  a 
chance." 

He  was  about  to  discard  his  six-shooter 
and  belt,  but  a  stealthy  crackle  in  the  sage- 
brush caused  him  to  reconsider.  He 
watched  the  spot  whence  the  sounds  came 
and  presently  he  made  out  the  form  of  a 


76    The  Three  Godfathers 

coyote.  The  brute  was  sitting  on  his 
hunkers,  his*  red  tongue  lolling  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  mouth,  his  glance  fixed  in  lazy 
appraisal  upon  the  last  of  the  godfathers 
and  the  bundle  that  he  carried. 

The  boldness  of  the  beast  was  an  insult 
in  itself.  It  drove  Bob  Sangster  wild  with 
anger.  With  marvelous  brute  intelligence 
the  coyote  had  sensed  the  weakness  of  the 
man,  and  patiently  he  had  set  himself  the 
task  of  shadowing  him  to  the  finish.  He 
sat  there  now — waiting.  In  his  contempt 
for  the  hereditary  enemy  the  gray  skulker 
did  not  even  trouble  to  conceal  his  inten- 
tions. 

"So  you're  hangin'  round  for  the  pickings 
already,"  snarled  Bob  Sangster,  and  fired. 
The  coyote  turned  a  somersault  and  crawled 
away  through  the  sage,  dragging  its  hind- 
legs  after  it,  and  two  more  coyotes  sprang 
up  at  the  sound  of  the  shot  and  scurried  out 
of  range. 

"You  think  I'll  drop  this  boy,  don't  you?" 


The  Three  Godfathers    77 

raved  the  godfather,  blazing  away  at  the 
fleeing  enemy  long  after  it  was  out  of  range. 
He  seized  Robert  William  Thomas  and, 
holding  his  hat  parasol  over  the  child,  hur- 
ried along  toward  the  mouth  of  a  draw.  He 
was  getting  in  among  the  low,  black,  vol- 
canic hills  and  lava  beds  again,  and  the  re- 
flected heat  was  terrible.  Cautiously  he 
made  his  way  along  the  shady  side  of  the 
canon,  and  for  an  hour  he  progressed  thus 
until  the  sun,  having  risen  higher,  sought 
him  out. 

Horned  toads  and  lizards  scuttled  out  of 
his  path  in  fright,  chuckwallas  blinked  their 
eyes  at  him,  a  desert  terrapin  waddled  lei- 
surely by,  and  once,  gazing  back  over  the 
trail,  he  saw  that  the  coyotes  had  recovered 
from  their  fright  and  were  following  him 
again.  He  commenced  to  see  mirages — 
wonderfully  beautiful  little  lakes,  fringed 
with  palms  and  bright-green  rushes.  Dis- 
tinctly he  heard  the  pleasant  murmur  of 
water  tumbling  over  rocks.  He  was  tempt- 


78   The  Three  Godfathers 

ed  to  pause  and  search  for  this  purling 
brook,  but  his  common-sense  warned  that  it 
was  all  a  delusion  of  the  heat  and  his  own 
imagination.  He  knew  that  the  sun  was 
getting  him  fast,  that  he  was  drying  up. 

"Cactus,"  he  kept  repeating  to  himself, 
as  if  in  that  one  word  he  held  the  open 
sesame  of  life;  "just  one  niggerhead  cac- 
tus." But  the  niggerhead  cactus,  with  its 
scanty  supply  of  vegetable  juices,  did  not 
grow  in  the  country  through  which  he  was 
traveling,  and  as  the  slow  miles  slipped  be- 
hind him  and  his  eager  glance  revealed  the 
entire  absence  of  the  shrub  that  meant  life 
to  him  and  Robert  William  Thomas,  the 
terrible  uselessness  of  his  struggle,  the  horri- 
ble forlornness  of  his  forlorn  hope,  became 
more  and  more  apparent.  The  baby  was 
whimpering  continually  now,  and  faint  blue 
rings  had  appeared  under  the  little  suffer- 
er's eyes.  He  was  sick  and  tired  and  hot 
and  itchy,  and  despite  the  fact  that  the  god- 
fathers had  done  their  best,  Bob  Sangster 


The  Three  Godfathers    79 

knew  that  the  child  could  not  last  a  day 
longer  without  proper  attention.  It  was  a 
miracle  that  he  had  survived  thus  far — a 
miracle  only  accounted  for  by  reason  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  a  healthy,  hearty  twelve- 
pounder  at  birth.  The  last  of  the  god- 
fathers tried  vainly  to  soothe  him  with  the 
oft-successful  Teller  Rose  o'  Texas,  but  he 
was  beyond  singing  now,  and  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  both  were  going  swiftly  he  min- 
gled his  tears  with  those  of  his  godson.  Yet 
they  were  manly  tears,  and  no  taint  of  self- 
pity  brought  them  forth.  Only  it  broke 
Bob  Sangster's  heart  to  think  of  his  helpless 
godson  and  of  the  gray  scavengers  skulking 
behind. 

Suddenly  the  godfather  thrilled  with  a 
great  feeling  of  relief  and  joy.  He  had 
come  to  an  Indian  water  sign;  he  read  it 
at  a  glance.  Five  little  rock  monuments  in 
a  circle,  with  a  sixth  standing  off  to  the  right 
about  thirty  feet  from  the  others.  In  that 
direction  the  water  lay,  and  bearing  due 


80    The  Three  Godfathers 

southwest  Bob  Sangster  saw  a  draw  opening 
up.  The  journey  would  take  him  a  mile  or 
two  out  of  his  way,  but  what  mattered  a 
mile  or  ten  miles,  provided  he  found  water? 
The  prospect  gave  him  renewed  hope  and 
strength.  He  forged  steadily  ahead  and 
when  the  canon  narrowed  he  knew  he  was 
coming  to  a  "tank."  Up  the  wash  he  ran 
and  sank,  sobbing,  on  the  edge  of  the  water- 
hole.  It  was  quite  dry. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  gather 
his  courage  together  and  depart  down  the 
canon  again.  He  had  traveled  two  miles 
for  nothing!  He  wept  anew  at  the  thought, 
marveling  the  while  that  there  should  be  so 
much  moisture  still  in  his  wretched  body. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  canon  he  halted  and 
prepared  the  last  of  his  condensed  milk  and 
water  for  the  baby.  When  he  proffered  it, 
however,  the  child  screamed  and  refused 
the  horrid  draught,  and  as  he  lay  on  the 
man's  knees  with  his  little  mouth  open  Bob 


The  Three  Godfathers    81 

Sangster  dropped  in  the  last  dregs  of  his 
canteen. 

"You  need  water,  too,  son,"  he  mumbled 
sadly.  "This  sweet  dope  is  killin'  you." 

He  replaced  the  feeding  bottle  in  his 
pocket,  paused  long  enough  to  kill  another 
coyote  that  had  ventured  too  close,  and  re- 
sumed his  journey  toward  New  Jerusalem. 
He  had  left  the  dry  tank  at  noon.  At  one 
o'clock  he  was  two  miles  nearer  New  Jeru- 
salem; at  three  o'clock  he  was  within  five 
miles  of  the  camp  and  had  fallen  for  the 
first  time.  But  even  as  he  fell  he  had  thrust 
out  his  left  hand,  thus  fending  his  weight 
from  the  baby,  and  the  child  had  not  been 
injured.  So  the  godfather  merely  covered 
the  child's  tender  head  with  Tom  Gibbons7 
old  hat,  and  together  they  lay  for  a  while 
prone  in  the  sand.  The  man  was  not  yet 
done,  but  he  was  exhausted  and  half  blind 
and  very  weak.  He  was  striving  to  get  his 
courage  in  hand  once  more,  and  he  needed 
a  rest  so  badly.  So  he  lay  there,  trying  to 


82    The  Three  Godfathers 

think,  until  presently  the  whimpering  of  the 
infant  aroused  him,  and  he  sat  up  suddenly. 
Seated  in  a  circle,  of  which  Bob  Sangster 
and  the  baby  formed  the  axis,  were  half  a 
dozen  coyotes.  They  were  closer  now — too 
close  for  comfort  and,  cowardly  as  he  knew 
them  to  be,  there  were  enough  of  them 
present  to  fan  their  courage  to  the  point 
where  a  single  rush  would  end  it.  He  fired 
at  them  and  they  scampered  away  un- 
harmed. 

"I  can't  shoot  any  more,"  the  man  wailed. 
"I'm  goin'  blind.  Come,  son,  we  must  move 
on  or  they'll  get  us  to-night." 

He  picked  the  child  up  and  plodded  on, 
and  once  more  the  coyotes  fell  into  line 
behind  him.  The  godfather  began  to  feel 
afraid  of  them.  He  was  obsessed  with  a 
horrible  fear  that  they  might  sneak  up  and 
snap  at  him  from  behind,  or  rush  him  en 
masse  and  tear  the  baby  out  of  his  arms. 
He  kept  glancing  back  and  firing  at  them. 
But  all  of  his  shots  went  wild  and  gradually 


The  Three  Godfathers    83 

the  trailing  brutes  grew  bolder.  Whenever 
he  sat  down  for  a  few  minutes  to  rest  they 
surrounded  him,  and  it  seemed  to  the  god- 
father that  each  time  they  edged  in  closer. 
He  decided  to  save  his  cartridges  until  the 
final  rush. 

He  tottered  along  until  four  o'clock 
before  he  fell  again.  This  time  he  twisted 
in  time  to  land  on  his  back,  with  the  baby 
uppermost,  and  as  he  lay  there,  stunned 
and  shaken,  the  godfather  was  almost  proud 
of  himself  for  his  forethought.  He  closed 
his  eyes  to  rid  his  vision  of  the  myriads  of 
red,  yellow  and  blue  spots  that  came  danc- 
ing out  of  the  sand  and  shooting  into  the 
air  like  skyrockets.  The  spots  still  persist- 
ed, however — for  the  skyrockets  were  in 
his  brain,  and  as  he  lay  there  it  came  to 
him  that  this  was  to  be  the  end  after  all. 
He  was  too  weak  to  carry  the  baby  further. 
Sooner  or  later  he  would  fall  upon  it  and 
kill  it,  so  why  struggle  further 

The  baby  was  leaving  him!     He  could 


84    The  Three  Godfathers 

feel  it  being  slowly  dragged  from  his  pro- 
tecting arm,  and  with  a  moan  that  was  in- 
tended for  a  shriek  he  sat  up  and  reached 
for  his  gun.  So  close  to  him  was  the  coyote, 
dragging  gingerly  at  the  infant's  clothing, 
that  the  godfather  dared  not  fire.  He 
merely  threw  up  his  arms  to  frighten  the 
beast  away,  and  reluctantly  it  trotted  back 
and  rejoined  its  companions  of  the  slaver- 
ing, red-tongued  circle. 

The  godfather  knelt  in  the  sands  beside 
the  baby  and  searched  for  the  marks  of 
teeth,  but  found  none.  The  horror  of  their 
situation  was  brought  forcefully  home  to 
him  now.  He  had  hoped  before,  but  hope 
was  vanished.  New  Jerusalem  could  not 
be  more  than  three  miles  away,  but  it  might 
as  well  be  three  hundred,  for  Bob  Sangster 
could  never  make  it  with  the  baby.  He 
thought  no  longer  of  life.  He  wanted  to 
cheat  the  coyotes,  and  in  his  agony  he  for- 
got that  he  was  a  Bad  Man  and  cried  aloud 


The  Three  Godfathers   85 

to  a  Supreme  Being  of  whom  he  knew 
nothing. 

"O  God,  save  me,  save  me!  Not  for  my- 
self, but  for  this  poor  little  baby.  I'm  old 
and  tough,  Lord,  but  save  the  baby.  You 
were  a  baby  yourself  once,  Lord,  if  the 
Bible  don't  lie.  Now  save  my  baby.  Don't 
go  back  on  me,  Lord.  Help  me,  help  me 
to  keep  my  word  to  raise  him  right " 

He  clasped  the  child  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  it  passionately  for  the  first  time  since 
his  assumption  of  the  duties  of  a  godfather. 
And  then,  because  he  was  a  fighter  and 
could  not  quit  while  there  was  life  within 
him,  he  reeled  onward  with  dogged  per- 
sistence. He  fixed  his  fading  glance  on  some 
unimportant  landmark  and  nerved  himself 
to  last  until  he  should  reach  it.  Queer 
thoughts  kept  obtruding  themselves  upon 
him.  Once  he  thought  a  chuckwalla  ad- 
dressed him,  saying:  "Hello,  Bob  Sang- 
ster,  what  are  you  runnin'  away  from?  You 
can't  dodge  them  coyotes.  They're  goin'  to 
get  that  infant,  sure.  Better  chuck  'em  the 


86    The  Three  Godfathers 

kid  an'  see  if  you  can't  make  it  alone  to 
New  Jerusalem.  That  baby's  weight  is 
killin'  you,  boy.  After  all,  what  is  he  to 
you?  He's  only  a  three-day-old  baby.  Why 
don't,  you  drop  him  an'  beat  it  in  to  New 
Jerusalem?  You  can  make  it  without  the 
baby." 

He  had  cursed  the  chuckwalla  and 
stamped  it  into  the  earth  for  the  insult.  But 
a  moment  later  a  horned  toad  advised  him 
to  drink  the  milk  that  still  remained  in 
the  feeding  bottle.  "Of  course  it's  none  o' 
my  business,"  remarked  the  horned  toad, 
"but  if  the  baby  won't  drink  it,  you  should. 
It's  foolish  to  let  it  go  to  waste.  It's  only  a 
couple  of  mouthfuls,  but  it'll  give  you 
strength  to  make  that  black  lava  point  a 
mile  ahead." 

"Horned  Toad,"  replied  the  godfather, 
"you're  a  sensible  little  critter  an'  I'll  take 
your  advice.  It  ain't  manly  to  do  it,  but 
nothin'  matters  any  more." 

He  drank  the  milk  that  the  baby  had  re- 


The  Three  Godfathers    87 

fused,  tossed  the  bottle  aside  and  nerved 
himself  to  last  until  he  should  reach  the 
black  lava  point.  That  was  to  be  the  last 
goal.  If  he  fell  before  he  reached  it  he 
resolved  to  climb  into  a  palo-verde  tree, 
wedge  himself  and  the  baby  in  between  the 
limbs,  kill  the  baby  and  himself,  and  thus 
dying  have  the  laugh  on  the  coyotes. 

He  fell.  For  the  third  time  the  child 
escaped  being  crushed.  The  palo-verde 
tree  was  only  fifty  yards  away,  the  black 
lava  point  seventy-five  yards,  but  when  the 
godfather  could  scramble  to  his  feet  again 
he  made  for  the  palo-verde  tree.  Here,  to 
his  disgust,  he  found  himself  too  weak  to 
climb  the  tree.  So  he  leaned  against  it  and 
wept,  dry-eyed,  with  rage  and  horror  and 
disappointment.  The  horned  toad  had  fol- 
lowed and  now  offered  more  advice. 

"Sangster,  you're  a  chump.  Why  climb 
the  tree?  The  buzzards  will  get  you,  so 
what's  the  difference?" 

"I'll  make  the  lava  point,"  replied  the 


88    The  Three  Godfathers 

godfather.  "They  can't  come  at  me  in 
back  there,  an'  I  can  keep  'em  away  for  a 
while  anyhow." 

He  lurched  away.  Foot  by  foot  he 
approached  the  black  lava  point.  He  re- 
solved to  round  it;  there  was  shade  on  the 
other  side.  Staggering,  reeling,  muttering 
incoherently,  he  rounded  the  lava  rock  and 
collided  with  something  soft  and  hairy.  He 
leaned  against  it  for  a  moment,  resting, 
while  something  soft  and  warm  and  animal- 
like  nuzzled  him  and  nickered  softly  in  the 
joy  of  the  meeting.  When  Bob  Sangster 
opened  his  eyes  he  found  himself  leaning 
against  a  trembling  old  white  burro  with  a 
pack  on  his  back. 

"Water,"  thought  the  godfather,  "water. 
There  ought  to  be  a  canvas  waterbag,"  and 
he  went  clawing  along  the  burro's  side,  feel- 
ing for  the  waterbag  but  unable  to  find  it. 
The  little  animal  was  standing  patiently  in 
the  shadow  of  the  rock,  and  Bob  Sangster 
stood  off  and  looked  at  him.  The  burro's 


The  Three  Godfathers    89 

eyes  were  red  and  dust-rimmed;  evidently 
he  had  traveled  far.  His  legs  trembled,  his 
tongue,  dry  and  black,  protruded  from  his 
mouth.  The  burro,  too,  was  dying  of  thirst. 

"You  poor  devil,"  mused  Bob  Sangster. 
He  gazed  at  the  pitiable  little  animal,  the 
while  his  memory  strove  to  recall  some 
other  incident  in  which  a  burro  had  figured. 
There  had  been  some  talk  of  burros  recently 
with  Bill  Kearny  and  Tom  Gibbons.  What 
was  it?  Well,  never  mind.  It  didn't  make 
any  difference.  This  burro  was  dying  and 
useless ;  there  was  no  water  bag 

And  when  they  drew  nigh  unto  Jeru- 
salem .  .  .  then  sent  Jesus  two  disciples, 
saying  unto  them,  Go  into  the  village  over 
against  you,  and  straightway  ye  shall  find 
an  ass  tied  .  .  . 

The  words  of  the  Gospel  according  to 
St.  Matthew  flamed  in  letters  of  fire  across 
the  failing  vision  of  the  last  godfather.  He 
remembered  now.  He  had  read  a  chapter 
from  the  Bible  to  Bill  Kearny  and  Tom 


90    The  Three  Godfathers 

Gibbons  back  there  at  Terrapin  Tanks — 
and  it  was  all  about  Christ  riding  into  Jeru- 
salem on  an  ass.  Here,  in  the  shadow  of 
this  black  lava,  he  had  found  a  burro  wait- 
ing! Bill  Kearny  had  asked  for  a  sign • 

The  last  of  the  godfathers  thought  of  his 
frenzied  prayer  of  an  hour  before.  He  had 
asked  for  help.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
here  stood  the  answer? 

"There's  a  chance,"  he  mumbled.  "This 
critter  has  stampeded  from  some  prospec- 
tor's pack  outfit.  He's  been  lookin'  for 
water,  and  the  Lord  sent  him  our  way, 
sonny.  He's  sure  sent  him." 

With  his  free  hand  the  godfather  clawed 
desperately  at  the  diamond  hitch,  swept  the 
load  from  the  packsaddle,  ripped  it  apart 
and  found — a  can  of  tomatoes.  He  slashed 
the  can  open,  drank  some  himself  and  gave 
the  balance  to  the  burro.  Then,  lifting  his 
godson  into  the  packsaddle,  he  lashed  him 
in  securely;  after  which  he  took  his  open 
pocket  knife  in  hand  and  prodded  the  jaded 


The  Three  Godfathers    91 

burro  until  it  consented  to  move  away  across 
the  desert  at  a  crawling,  shuffling  gait.  Bob 
Sangster  walked  beside  the  burro,  one  hand 
busy  with  the  point  of  the  knife,  the  other 
clinging  desperately  to  the  rear  cross  of  the 
packsaddle.  His  strength  had,  in  a  meas- 
ure, returned  after  drinking  the  canned 
tomatoes,  and  he  fancied  that  the  burro  too 
seemed  rejuvenated.  Bob  Sangster  wished 
he  had  another  can  of  tomatoes  to  offer  the 
little  beast,  for  the  lives  of  himself  and  his 
godson  depended  on  the  burro.  He  leaned 
heavily  against  the  animal,  which  half  led, 
half  dragged  him  along.  Thus  an  hour 
passed. 

They  were  ascending  the  upraise  that  led 
to  the  crest  of  the  southeast  spur  of  Old 
Woman  Mountain  now,  and  through  the 
sunset  haze  the  witch's  demoniac  face  leered 
down  at  them  from  the  heights  above. 
Slowly,  haltingly,  they  progressed  up  the 
slope.  The  burro  was  almost  spent,  and 
time  and  again  he  balked  and  groaned  a 


92    The  Three  Godfathers 

feeble  protest.  He  welcomed  the  occasions 
when  the  godfather's  weak  clasp  of  the 
packsaddle  was  broken  and  he  fell  head- 
long to  earth.  But  if  he  fell,  the  godfather 
rose  again,  moaning,  praying,  raving,  and 
still  the  awful  cavalcade  pressed  on. 

The  shadows  grew  long.  The  sun  dis- 
appeared and  evening  settled  over  the  des- 
ert, but  still  the  sorry  pilgrimage  continued 
up  the  slope.  Now  they  were  half  a  mile 
from  it,  a  quarter,  two  hundred  yards,  a 
hundred  from  the  summit — the  burro 
grunted,  shivered  and  lay  down.  In  the 
gathering  gloom  Bob  Sangster  felt  for  the 
ropes  which  bound  the  baby  to  the  pack,  cut 
them  and  stood  clear  of  the  dying  beast. 

"You've  pulled  me  up  the  slope  in  the 
heat,  old  fellow,"  he  tried  to  say  with  lips 
that  were  split  and  parched  and  cut  and 
bleeding.  "I  never  could  have  made  it. 
New  Jerusalem  can't  be  far  away  now.  I'll 
get  there.  But " 

He  pressed  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  into  the 


The  Three  Godfathers    93 

suffering  animal's  ear  and  pulled.  "I  owed 
you  that  kindness,"  he  mumbled,  and  passed 
on  to  the  crest  of  the  slope. 

At  the  summit  he  paused,  swaying  gently 
with  his  precious  burden,  and  gazed  down 
the  other  side  of  the  spur.  In  a  hollow  a 
few  hundred  yards  below  him,  the  lights  of 
New  Jerusalem  gleamed  brightly  through 
the  gathering  gloom  of  that  lonely  Christ- 
mas Eve,  and  the  godfather  recalled  the 
words  of  Bill  Kearny. 

"It's  a  Christmas  baby.  God  won't  go 
back  on  it." 

Bob  Sangster's  tongue  hung  from  his 
mouth,  long  and  black  and  withered,  like 
the  tongue  of  a  dead  beef,  as  he  stood  there 
on  the  outskirts  of  New  Jerusalem  and 
thought  of  many  things.  Bill  Kearny  had 
been  right.  It  was  a  Christmas  baby.  It 
would  pull  through  all  right.  He  drew  the 
baby  to  him  until  their  faces  were  very 
close,  so  close  that  a  little  hand  crept  up  and 
closed  tightly  over  the  godfather's  nose. 


94    The  Three  Godfathers 

This  was  to  be  their  last  supreme  mo- 
ment together,  for  after  tonight  some 
woman  must  enter  into  Robert  William 
Thomas'  life  and  Bob  Sangster  could  only 
be  a  partner  in  his  godson's  love.  He  re- 
called that  the  baby's  mother  had  told  The 
Worst  Bad  Man  they  had  "kin"  in  New 
Jerusalem,  and  Bob  Sangster  wondered  if 
she  had  intended  that  he  should  turn  the 
baby  over  to  them.  The  thought  appalled 
him,  and  his  hot  tears  fell  fast  on  the  little 
white  face  as  he  staggered  down  the  grade 
into  New  Jerusalem. 

"I  won't  give  you  up,"  he  gibbered,  "I 
won't.  You're  mine.  Your  mother  give 
you  to  me  to  raise  like  a  man,  an'  I'm 
a-goin'  to  do  it.  You're  my  kid  an'  you're 
named  after  us  three.  No,  no,  I  won't.  I've 
died  ten  thousand  deaths  for  you — I'll  work 
an'  I'll  hire  a  woman " 

Fifteen  minutes  later  a  battered,  bleeding, 
raving  wreck  of  a  man,  who  hugged  a  bun- 
dle to  his  great  breast,  reeled  into  New 


The  Three  Godfathers    95 

Jerusalem  and  paused  in  front  of  a  hurdy- 
gurdy.     From  within  came  the  plaintive 
notes  of  a  melodeon,  and  a  woman — a  Mary 
Magdalen — was  singing: 
Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  lift  up  your  gates  and 

sing, 
Hosanna!  Hosanna!  Hosanna  to  your  King! 

Bob  Sangster  made  his  uncertain  way  to 
the  woman  at  the  melodeon  and  held  a  bun- 
dle toward  her. 

"What's  this?"  she  demanded.  The  last 
of  the  godfathers  gobbled  and  mumbled, 
but  the  words  refused  to  come.  How  could 
the  woman  know  what  he  was  trying  to  say? 

She  unwrapped  the  bundle  and  gazed 
down  at  Robert  William  Thomas  Sangster. 

Who  knows?  Perhaps  in  that  moment 
the  woman,  too,  like  The  Three  Bad  Men, 
beheld  The  King! 


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